I work with children most days and adults in different capacities and often do team building and cultural diversity activities and exercises as "ice breakers." I have found that the more things folks learn that they have in common, the more easily it is to build trust--so I often get folks to stand in circles or get a partner and talk about their favorite things.
When it comes to favorite color, I find that most people say blue or green or a shade of one or the other--mine being lime green and Mediterranean blue--of course many little girls do still say "pink and purple" but you'll have that. When they talk about their favorite flowers, most choose wild flowers like daisies, roses, sunflowers. But when it comes to trees? People tend to really get more specific and creative.
Kids (of all religions) often shout out "Christmas trees!" and smile. They don't know if they are pine or spruce or balsam firs, they just like the lights and presents...New Americans often say "oak" or describe the trees with the acorns or ones with color (the sugar maples.) Some New Americans have told me "ones you can climb." I've never heard an adult say that they preferred Christmas trees to any other--probably because they have had to deal with the purchase, hauling, setting up, light stringing, decorating, watering, clean up and disposal of said trees. They, like me, pick hardwoods--maple, oak, beech or birch---because we think about the beauty of the tree, yes, but the value of it once it is chopped down, as well. We think about our picture frames, mirrors, bedsteads, our dining room tables, hardwood floors, the post and beam construction of our summer homes...covered bridges...
It's not true that my favorite trees are Christmas trees, although I do love the fragrance as much as the next person. I love paper birch trees and beeches. Paper birches because they "breathe" and often look as if they have faces on them...and they are practical in a wilderness survival situation--bark burns even when wet. Beeches look JUST like strong muscular arms being pushed out of the soil into the forest air.They give us beech nuts. Their leaves turn a vibrant gold in autumn. And I like that look.
Forest trees that grow in clumps cling to one another's roots and some of them have root systems that push entire trees up and out and form an actual GROVE. In fact the largest living organism on Earth is a grove of aspens in California. There is nothing in this world like walking along a wooded path of a forest lined with beeches and birches in mid-August and having to don a sweater because it is so cool and shady and welcoming.
Trees are also the tallest of all living things and some of the oldest. They give us oxygen, shade, places for animals and insects to live and thrive in, climb...I could go on and on. Trees. They are my favorites.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Sunday, December 28, 2014
A Bird on Route 100 South
My brother's friend (I will call him William) told us a true story about one of the ridiculous things that his late father, a Mory cop, had told him. It all began with phone calls from tourists and locals to the Stowe Police barracks--a bird was on Route 100 and was causing a ruckus. By the time the Stowe police ascertained from a local person that the bird wasn't actually physically IN Stowe, and therefore out of Stowe's "jurisdiction" and heretofore and notwithstanding blah blah blah, without a call from Mory's police unit, Stowe's hands were tied.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, it was Officer Bob McCavern who was sent out on the call to do something about a "huge turkey" probably injured, and causing "quite a stir" on Vermont Route 100 south of Mory-- so he threw a woolen blanket in the trunk of the cruiser and headed south down the highway lights flashing, sirens on.
It was all happening at one of the typical sites for accidents, an intersection of Route 100 and the Randolph Road, and a very busy section of the road, especially during foliage season. By the time Officer McCavern arrived, there was quite a commotion, cars were everywhere-- parked IN the cornfield, lined up along both sides of all three roads. Some locals were trying to chase the bird out of the road, but were, instead being chased BY the animal, who was flipping and flapping, pecking and scratching at anyone who dared come near.There was blood on the highway and it was obvious that the bird had been hit. Bob radioed his own unit for "backup then the neighboring "boys in blue" in Stowe.
Bob got on his cruiser megaphone and drove slowly through the crowds of folks, some taking photos, others rolling down windows, peeking out but not daring to exit their vehicles. He implored folks "I've got it under control, folks," he said. "You can all get back in your cars." Some people listened, women gesturing to men to go, go reaching up and taking children off the roofs of Subaru Outbacks, but because it was such a SCENE, everyone really just got in the way and made things worse.
Bob finally got TO the bird, and yes, it was injured and fighting mad but no, it was no turkey...it was a turkey buzzard, meaning a buzzard much bigger than a turkey that probably eats turkeys for breakfast. He got out of the cruiser, flipped the trunk open, grabbed the blanket and started pursuit. The turkey buzzard was, according to witnesses, "so fired up he didn't know one way from the other" and ran down across the Mory/Stowe border of Route 100 into Stowe territory! The Stowe police arrived, set up two cruiser barricades across the road and came with a third cruiser to stop on-coming traffic. Mory sent a second cruiser, then a third and then it happened, the bird half ran and half flew into the field.
Because the bird was injured, someone called the game warden, but he was way over in Eden Mills and it would "be awhile"before he could come and either save or shoot the thing. Bob chased it for awhile, but it was ducking and diving this way and that and Bob was in his 60's nearing retirement and had a heart condition...so he had to think of another way to get this thing done. He consulted with the other police officers, some of whom were ready "to kill the damn bird" but on second thought not only would this be dangerous to the citizens, it wouldn't look good to the media or the Tourist Bureau. Ever since the "Pigs in Stowe" article back in the early '80's Stowe was trying to clean up its reputation when it came to animals of all kinds.
Finally they all decided that they needed to get the bird some medical help and to do that they had to capture and hold it somewhere until the folks from Milton could come down and lend a hand. That meant calling the State Police and getting permission to use the holding cell in Hyde Park. So, eventually they did catch the poor massive bleeding bird, put it in the rear of Bob's cruiser, sent everyone home and put that bird in jail until they could sedate him and fix his broken wing, sew up his lacerations and house him at the bird rescue place.
This was over 10 years ago and that bird is still alive and well and making stops at elementary schools and community events all over Vermont. So really, to be an injured bird on the Stowe/Mory line of Vermont Route 100 is to get loads of attention from locals and tourists alike and to become a celebrity of sorts, especially if it happens during the peak of foliage season.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, it was Officer Bob McCavern who was sent out on the call to do something about a "huge turkey" probably injured, and causing "quite a stir" on Vermont Route 100 south of Mory-- so he threw a woolen blanket in the trunk of the cruiser and headed south down the highway lights flashing, sirens on.
It was all happening at one of the typical sites for accidents, an intersection of Route 100 and the Randolph Road, and a very busy section of the road, especially during foliage season. By the time Officer McCavern arrived, there was quite a commotion, cars were everywhere-- parked IN the cornfield, lined up along both sides of all three roads. Some locals were trying to chase the bird out of the road, but were, instead being chased BY the animal, who was flipping and flapping, pecking and scratching at anyone who dared come near.There was blood on the highway and it was obvious that the bird had been hit. Bob radioed his own unit for "backup then the neighboring "boys in blue" in Stowe.
Bob got on his cruiser megaphone and drove slowly through the crowds of folks, some taking photos, others rolling down windows, peeking out but not daring to exit their vehicles. He implored folks "I've got it under control, folks," he said. "You can all get back in your cars." Some people listened, women gesturing to men to go, go reaching up and taking children off the roofs of Subaru Outbacks, but because it was such a SCENE, everyone really just got in the way and made things worse.
Bob finally got TO the bird, and yes, it was injured and fighting mad but no, it was no turkey...it was a turkey buzzard, meaning a buzzard much bigger than a turkey that probably eats turkeys for breakfast. He got out of the cruiser, flipped the trunk open, grabbed the blanket and started pursuit. The turkey buzzard was, according to witnesses, "so fired up he didn't know one way from the other" and ran down across the Mory/Stowe border of Route 100 into Stowe territory! The Stowe police arrived, set up two cruiser barricades across the road and came with a third cruiser to stop on-coming traffic. Mory sent a second cruiser, then a third and then it happened, the bird half ran and half flew into the field.
Because the bird was injured, someone called the game warden, but he was way over in Eden Mills and it would "be awhile"before he could come and either save or shoot the thing. Bob chased it for awhile, but it was ducking and diving this way and that and Bob was in his 60's nearing retirement and had a heart condition...so he had to think of another way to get this thing done. He consulted with the other police officers, some of whom were ready "to kill the damn bird" but on second thought not only would this be dangerous to the citizens, it wouldn't look good to the media or the Tourist Bureau. Ever since the "Pigs in Stowe" article back in the early '80's Stowe was trying to clean up its reputation when it came to animals of all kinds.
Finally they all decided that they needed to get the bird some medical help and to do that they had to capture and hold it somewhere until the folks from Milton could come down and lend a hand. That meant calling the State Police and getting permission to use the holding cell in Hyde Park. So, eventually they did catch the poor massive bleeding bird, put it in the rear of Bob's cruiser, sent everyone home and put that bird in jail until they could sedate him and fix his broken wing, sew up his lacerations and house him at the bird rescue place.
This was over 10 years ago and that bird is still alive and well and making stops at elementary schools and community events all over Vermont. So really, to be an injured bird on the Stowe/Mory line of Vermont Route 100 is to get loads of attention from locals and tourists alike and to become a celebrity of sorts, especially if it happens during the peak of foliage season.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Thoughts on Marilyn Monroe
Marilyn Monroe was originally named Norma Jean Baker, I believe. When Norma Jean was young, photos of her and her model mother were taken on beach blankets in big black sunglasses, walking hand-in-hand along windy beaches, standing next to late-model open-air cars, that sort of thing.
She was not a natural blonde. In fact, she had, until the day she died, brown eyes, lashes and eyebrows, usually a tip off as to a person's true hair color. Norma Jean/Marilyn Monroe had a very soft, girly voice and was portrayed as being America's Sweetheart-- the sexy kitten sweetheart, not the Orphan Annie sweetheart.
Men loved her and women wanted to BE her. More hair color was sold during her screen reign than is probably even sold now. She had soft, fine blonde hair on her arms and legs that was reportedly silken. She made LOVE to the camera, they said, because SOME LIKE IT HOT.
Size 12 Marilyn Monroe was twelve sized up from the size 0 models of today and was considered in the 50's and 60's (and to many, even these days) to be voluptuously gorgeous. Three husbands, tons of successful movies, fame, furs and diamonds--made her famous and outwardly happy. Along with the lifestyle of shiny red cars, the latest fashions, foot and eyewear came a love for martinis. Along with the most stylish furs and dinner gowns and long cigarette holders came a drug habit.
America loved her but could not save her--in black and white or in full color. Poor Marilyn ended up going down the RIVER OF NO RETURN. Perhaps it was a murder, not a suicide. Regardless, come to find out DIAMONDS ARE not A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND.
Oct, 2014
She was not a natural blonde. In fact, she had, until the day she died, brown eyes, lashes and eyebrows, usually a tip off as to a person's true hair color. Norma Jean/Marilyn Monroe had a very soft, girly voice and was portrayed as being America's Sweetheart-- the sexy kitten sweetheart, not the Orphan Annie sweetheart.
Men loved her and women wanted to BE her. More hair color was sold during her screen reign than is probably even sold now. She had soft, fine blonde hair on her arms and legs that was reportedly silken. She made LOVE to the camera, they said, because SOME LIKE IT HOT.
Size 12 Marilyn Monroe was twelve sized up from the size 0 models of today and was considered in the 50's and 60's (and to many, even these days) to be voluptuously gorgeous. Three husbands, tons of successful movies, fame, furs and diamonds--made her famous and outwardly happy. Along with the lifestyle of shiny red cars, the latest fashions, foot and eyewear came a love for martinis. Along with the most stylish furs and dinner gowns and long cigarette holders came a drug habit.
America loved her but could not save her--in black and white or in full color. Poor Marilyn ended up going down the RIVER OF NO RETURN. Perhaps it was a murder, not a suicide. Regardless, come to find out DIAMONDS ARE not A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND.
Oct, 2014
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Pigs in Stowe=a true story with a lot made up
There was a series of stories in the local Vermont paper "the Stowe Reporter" that kept the whole town stirring for quite some time. It featured a local guy who wanted to do whatever he wanted to with his land on the Mountain Road so he went about doing it. But because he met with such resistance from the town fathers,tourist bureau, and nearby merchants, an out and out war began.
They heard that he was going to chop up his several acres into one or two acre lots, sell them off and see what happened. He didn't really care what happened, as you can imagine. So he found a real estate agent without scruples (they are so hard to find!) and put up some signs.
Now, if you know anything about Vermont, and I know you do--even back in the '80s we were green. Stowe being a Currier and Ives ski village in the winter and a golfing, tennis, etc. "haven" for rich folks most of the rest of the year. Foliage season brings in as much if not more tourist dollars than ski season and it only lasts about a week. So to think that ( I'll call him Homer Shruggs) to even CONSIDER putting small HOMES up along a lovely meadow lined with red maple trees along the Mountain Road was unthinkable.
Homer was a true Vermonter--dyed in the wool, 6th or more generation, meat and potatoes man. Nobody had handed over anything to him; he had worked hard for his money and nobody was going to tell him what to do with it. Besides, he told the media, he needed the money for taxes.
The first thing he did was to haul a very old, ugly blue house trailer onto that lot the town told him he could not develop. A town meeting ensued and folks screamed and cried out that Homer was doing this on purpose, just to make the rest of the town suffer" and made other such accusations. Homer sat there in the front row, Blue Seal hat on straight, farmer jeans and muddy boots. Arms crossed, Smiling. Eventually after everyone had been heard, Homer strolled out of the Town Hall, hopped down the steps and into his beat up red and rusty pick up and smoked his way up Main Street, turning right without stopping at the blinking light.
This town outcry didn't stop old Homer. No sir. A few days went by and Homer added to his land a ramshackle fence, part chicken wire, part barbed wire, part orange snow fence and then around that a split rail fence that didn't so much encircle the wire fencing, as box it in on four or more sides.
Locals sat over coffee the next morning gabbing about the mess Homer was making of that lot. People drove up the road to see what was what gawking so that two or three almost had car accidents in the process. Someone finally called the cops.
Sargent Oliver Sargent came to the town folks' rescue and because he knew Homer since they were in short pants, they had a heart-to-heart with the result being that poor Olie shook his head, tipped his hat and walked away from the killing end of Homer's shot gun.
The very next day, a large shaky trailer full of full-grown hogs arrived on Homer's land and by gosh didn't 25 or more pigs run squealing with joy out of that thing and take up residence in that green open field? Now you may not know what pigs do when they find a place to root, but I do. Those great big hogs began nosing around in the soil, uprooting that entire field in about a week...and then it rained and was sunny and hot. Those pigs couldn't have had it any better off! They rolled around in that mud smiling and snorting, like...well, like pigs in shit.
Now, that makeshift pig pen of Homer's was only about 100 feet off the main winding road and when the wind changed, the smell of that place? Was worse than anything you've ever smelled dead or alive! Headlined in the Stowe Reporter was "PIGS IN STOWE" and in full view, black and white, there it was: a photo of a very gnarly muddy hog about the size of a pony smiling into the camera, proud to be a Vermonter. Well, didn't that story just get national attention and put Stowe, Vermont on national news.
You know what happened, of course, Homer finally either got bought off or something because a little while later, the hogs disappeared, the fence came down and the trailer got hauled off. And that field is greener today because of it. I wonder what did happen to Homer and those hogs sometimes. But every time I travel that Mountain Road and pass that lovely field bordered by those maples, I smile and smile remembering Homer and his pigs in Stowe.
They heard that he was going to chop up his several acres into one or two acre lots, sell them off and see what happened. He didn't really care what happened, as you can imagine. So he found a real estate agent without scruples (they are so hard to find!) and put up some signs.
Now, if you know anything about Vermont, and I know you do--even back in the '80s we were green. Stowe being a Currier and Ives ski village in the winter and a golfing, tennis, etc. "haven" for rich folks most of the rest of the year. Foliage season brings in as much if not more tourist dollars than ski season and it only lasts about a week. So to think that ( I'll call him Homer Shruggs) to even CONSIDER putting small HOMES up along a lovely meadow lined with red maple trees along the Mountain Road was unthinkable.
Homer was a true Vermonter--dyed in the wool, 6th or more generation, meat and potatoes man. Nobody had handed over anything to him; he had worked hard for his money and nobody was going to tell him what to do with it. Besides, he told the media, he needed the money for taxes.
The first thing he did was to haul a very old, ugly blue house trailer onto that lot the town told him he could not develop. A town meeting ensued and folks screamed and cried out that Homer was doing this on purpose, just to make the rest of the town suffer" and made other such accusations. Homer sat there in the front row, Blue Seal hat on straight, farmer jeans and muddy boots. Arms crossed, Smiling. Eventually after everyone had been heard, Homer strolled out of the Town Hall, hopped down the steps and into his beat up red and rusty pick up and smoked his way up Main Street, turning right without stopping at the blinking light.
This town outcry didn't stop old Homer. No sir. A few days went by and Homer added to his land a ramshackle fence, part chicken wire, part barbed wire, part orange snow fence and then around that a split rail fence that didn't so much encircle the wire fencing, as box it in on four or more sides.
Locals sat over coffee the next morning gabbing about the mess Homer was making of that lot. People drove up the road to see what was what gawking so that two or three almost had car accidents in the process. Someone finally called the cops.
Sargent Oliver Sargent came to the town folks' rescue and because he knew Homer since they were in short pants, they had a heart-to-heart with the result being that poor Olie shook his head, tipped his hat and walked away from the killing end of Homer's shot gun.
The very next day, a large shaky trailer full of full-grown hogs arrived on Homer's land and by gosh didn't 25 or more pigs run squealing with joy out of that thing and take up residence in that green open field? Now you may not know what pigs do when they find a place to root, but I do. Those great big hogs began nosing around in the soil, uprooting that entire field in about a week...and then it rained and was sunny and hot. Those pigs couldn't have had it any better off! They rolled around in that mud smiling and snorting, like...well, like pigs in shit.
Now, that makeshift pig pen of Homer's was only about 100 feet off the main winding road and when the wind changed, the smell of that place? Was worse than anything you've ever smelled dead or alive! Headlined in the Stowe Reporter was "PIGS IN STOWE" and in full view, black and white, there it was: a photo of a very gnarly muddy hog about the size of a pony smiling into the camera, proud to be a Vermonter. Well, didn't that story just get national attention and put Stowe, Vermont on national news.
You know what happened, of course, Homer finally either got bought off or something because a little while later, the hogs disappeared, the fence came down and the trailer got hauled off. And that field is greener today because of it. I wonder what did happen to Homer and those hogs sometimes. But every time I travel that Mountain Road and pass that lovely field bordered by those maples, I smile and smile remembering Homer and his pigs in Stowe.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Phone Free Weekend Without Too Much Drama
I left my i phone at work and did not realize it until I was almost home. By then, not only did I know I couldn't PHONE to tell someone to hide it and shut it off, the office I had left was about to close and I wasn't even in Stowe, yet. So I thought WHO do I know who has a phone and will lend it to me in Stowe? My old landlords/friends would let me, but I didn't want the first time I had seen them since my brother's funeral to be a Can I Use Your Phone, I'm Such a Fool I Forgot Mine, again time...so I remembered Chris who works at a convenience store in Stowe has a phone and definitely would let me use it. Sans Drama.
So he did and Darlene said she'd put it away. I intended to go back for it on Saturday. But it's ninety miles both ways and all I needed to really do is tell my family and ONE FRIEND that I was without a phone.
Saturday was Green Up day and it went without a hitch except that I had to find a place in one town over to pick something up I had agreed to pick up on Front Page Forum, our neighborhood bulletin board. I emailed both of my sisters and neither wrote right back, making me realize TEXTING IS FASTER, and felt upset with them that they didn't think my lack of planning was their emergency.
Then during Greening UP Vermont, I could and would have taken multiple photos that I then would have tweeted or texted to fam or posted on Facebook but I couldn't because I was living PHONE FREE. This "what if there's an emergency" life we live is ok if you are a mom with kids on a camp out or driving out of the state or at the hands of a psychopath, but this every day "what it there's an emergency" is for the birds.
Of course, when my debit card was declined if I had a phone I WOULD have gotten right on that phone with Key Bank and told them what was what. But I had cash in my house so it was just a tad embarrassing and the store manager was very nice about it and held my groceries and I got them back without too much drama. Nobody in my family stopped by as far as I can tell since nobody left a note. I went lawn sailing and bought (with cash) quite a lot of stuff...without using my card. OR PHONE for directions. Just driving around and finding the place more or less in my neighborhood that I had never been to before. So all in all my life this weekend was good. No use of a phone after Friday pm. Not missing it much, either. Of course, I have a laptop, dvds, a tv and NETFLIX, for the time being, anyway.
But because my debit card was compromised, I do need to figure out who takes money out of my account each month, get a new card and give them permission to keep doing it. Or maybe I will only allow my bank and my insurance company to do that from now on. Well, and Netflix. Everyone else? Can go ------themselves! I did have a quiet weekend, after all, and realized that only during my interstate drive back to work on the following Monday, did I look down to check a phone that was not with me and hadn't been all weekend. I deliberately did not listen to the radio, either. No electronic anything for me until I made it back to work, got it, plugged it in--because nobody at work thought to plug the darned thing in all weekend--and started my work week when I should have. At work, not hours before.
So he did and Darlene said she'd put it away. I intended to go back for it on Saturday. But it's ninety miles both ways and all I needed to really do is tell my family and ONE FRIEND that I was without a phone.
Saturday was Green Up day and it went without a hitch except that I had to find a place in one town over to pick something up I had agreed to pick up on Front Page Forum, our neighborhood bulletin board. I emailed both of my sisters and neither wrote right back, making me realize TEXTING IS FASTER, and felt upset with them that they didn't think my lack of planning was their emergency.
Then during Greening UP Vermont, I could and would have taken multiple photos that I then would have tweeted or texted to fam or posted on Facebook but I couldn't because I was living PHONE FREE. This "what if there's an emergency" life we live is ok if you are a mom with kids on a camp out or driving out of the state or at the hands of a psychopath, but this every day "what it there's an emergency" is for the birds.
Of course, when my debit card was declined if I had a phone I WOULD have gotten right on that phone with Key Bank and told them what was what. But I had cash in my house so it was just a tad embarrassing and the store manager was very nice about it and held my groceries and I got them back without too much drama. Nobody in my family stopped by as far as I can tell since nobody left a note. I went lawn sailing and bought (with cash) quite a lot of stuff...without using my card. OR PHONE for directions. Just driving around and finding the place more or less in my neighborhood that I had never been to before. So all in all my life this weekend was good. No use of a phone after Friday pm. Not missing it much, either. Of course, I have a laptop, dvds, a tv and NETFLIX, for the time being, anyway.
But because my debit card was compromised, I do need to figure out who takes money out of my account each month, get a new card and give them permission to keep doing it. Or maybe I will only allow my bank and my insurance company to do that from now on. Well, and Netflix. Everyone else? Can go ------themselves! I did have a quiet weekend, after all, and realized that only during my interstate drive back to work on the following Monday, did I look down to check a phone that was not with me and hadn't been all weekend. I deliberately did not listen to the radio, either. No electronic anything for me until I made it back to work, got it, plugged it in--because nobody at work thought to plug the darned thing in all weekend--and started my work week when I should have. At work, not hours before.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Monday, February 17, 2014
These are a few of my least favorite things
PEOPLE AND THE WAY THEY CHOOSE TO LOOK:
Comb overs
Topees (you know, man wigs)
Shaved heads, long beards
Full body tats
Multiple facial piercings
Curly (only at the ends) mustaches
OK, any mustaches
Mohawks on little kids
Kids wearing camo sweats to school (come on!)
Skinny jeans on not so skinny folks
Really high heels on anybody's feet (ouch)
Sandals with socks
ONE long fingernail (like on a pinky?) but others regular length--spooky
Nail polish that is peeling
Fake orange tans
Frosted hair
Pants below butts
Make up on children
Stage moms PUTTING makeup on children
Wigs on kids to make them look "sexy"--which in my opinion is criminal
Rings on every finger--make up your mind
Bling on anyone who is NOT a rapper
PINKY RINGS on ANYBODY
Plastic combs that hold up hair when you wash your face used as an ACCESSORY
Neck tats---ouch
Finger tats---HATE on one hand and LOVE on the other--again, make up your mind
PEOPLE AND THEIR SHINANIGINS;
People who pick their noses in public
Racists who don't even try
Liars
Christian Fundamentalists who are anything but holy
Polygamists
Those who cut you off in traffic
People who "kill you with kindness"---act one way behind your back and another to your face
Parents who brag about how SMART or ATHLETIC their kids are
Kids who say "I'm rich" because their parents tell them that
Lazy people who won't even take a walk with you on a sunny day in the springtime because, according to them, they need to take a NAP
People who drive right up NEXT to their houses and won't walk the 20 feet from the end of the driveway
People who drive right up NEXT to the supermarket for the same reason
PET PARENTS who treat their dogs better than their own KIDS
Smokers
Drunk Drivers
Married men in bars who try to pick you up with one of two lines, "I'm unhappily married" like it's HER fault or "My wife and I have an understanding" like it's OK to cheat, she knows he does it and she's OK WITH IT!
Posers
People who scoff at homeless people
Comb overs
Topees (you know, man wigs)
Shaved heads, long beards
Full body tats
Multiple facial piercings
Curly (only at the ends) mustaches
OK, any mustaches
Mohawks on little kids
Kids wearing camo sweats to school (come on!)
Skinny jeans on not so skinny folks
Really high heels on anybody's feet (ouch)
Sandals with socks
ONE long fingernail (like on a pinky?) but others regular length--spooky
Nail polish that is peeling
Fake orange tans
Frosted hair
Pants below butts
Make up on children
Stage moms PUTTING makeup on children
Wigs on kids to make them look "sexy"--which in my opinion is criminal
Rings on every finger--make up your mind
Bling on anyone who is NOT a rapper
PINKY RINGS on ANYBODY
Plastic combs that hold up hair when you wash your face used as an ACCESSORY
Neck tats---ouch
Finger tats---HATE on one hand and LOVE on the other--again, make up your mind
PEOPLE AND THEIR SHINANIGINS;
People who pick their noses in public
Racists who don't even try
Liars
Christian Fundamentalists who are anything but holy
Polygamists
Those who cut you off in traffic
People who "kill you with kindness"---act one way behind your back and another to your face
Parents who brag about how SMART or ATHLETIC their kids are
Kids who say "I'm rich" because their parents tell them that
Lazy people who won't even take a walk with you on a sunny day in the springtime because, according to them, they need to take a NAP
People who drive right up NEXT to their houses and won't walk the 20 feet from the end of the driveway
People who drive right up NEXT to the supermarket for the same reason
PET PARENTS who treat their dogs better than their own KIDS
Smokers
Drunk Drivers
Married men in bars who try to pick you up with one of two lines, "I'm unhappily married" like it's HER fault or "My wife and I have an understanding" like it's OK to cheat, she knows he does it and she's OK WITH IT!
Posers
People who scoff at homeless people
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Coming Around to Home Ownership
It all started with my telling everyone that I was moving to Maine. Of course, I only WANTED to move there and had only applied for one job there at the time. Hadn't even interviewed, but I was CERTAIN that I would not only get the job? I would be gone by summer.
Well, you can guess what happened next: I did eventually interview and I did NOT get the job and i did NOT move to Maine. I licked my wounds for awhile, tried to figure out my, or was it God's- plan for me and eventually a year went by, as it often does, and my sister Prim, a real estate agent, told me of a little tiny place on the Randolph Road that "was just for me." She said it had my "name written all over it" and a second sister, Suzette, and I drove over after a few drinks to take a gander.
HOUSE NUMBER ONE
No one was living there, so of course we trespassed, peeking inside and walking around back we spotted paneled walls, tiny rooms, yes, but there was a MUD ROOM and this is Vermont, so I took that as a sign. And there was a garage! Now, everybody knows that in Vermont almost nobody has a garage. And if they do, that garage is filled with junk or wood or crap of some kind and nobody parks in there.
But I was going to be different. I was not only going to BUY this house, I was going to 1) park in the garage and 2) have a mud room with a washing machine in it!
Prim, the aforementioned real estate broker, got the keys to the Mud Room House and walked Suzette and me around, or was it just me? And it was cute. It had two bedrooms, tiny but large enough for a bed or two and it had a little kitchen and a bathroom--you know, more than I'm used to--so with a little paint job here and there I would be able to move right in.
Except that there was ONE TINY PROBLEM: I had no money. No, actually there were two problems: I had no money and no credit. But the woman from Country Wide (they soon thereafter went under with the housing crisis) was willing to lend me MUCH more money than I could afford to pay back--if I just paid off my car, paid all my debt and got my credit scores up to "fighting weight."
Well, I fought with her on the phone--I told her I wasn't stupid. That I had a degree, or a few of them, and that I listened to Kai Risdoll on Market Place every evening on my commute and to Tess Vigland on Market Place MONEY on the weekends and I knew damn well that I didn't want a mortgage of that magnitude. And she kind of hung up on me but very sweetly and I gave up on her immediately.
Until a year or so later.
Prim called with a "cute little place in Hyde Park" that I would love. Well, I couldn't resist. I had to get a look! I went with her the first time and LOVED IT! This place not only had a garage, it had room over it for all my crap and in the future enough space to put in an apartment for rental purposes!
It had a few problems: the garage/barn, for instance? Was kind of falling down. But if you tipped your head to the right about 20 degrees you could line the place right up and not even notice that. So that is exactly what I did. When other people came to see it (at Thanksgiving) they all told me how cute it was and how they could totally see me living there and how I could "fix it up" and it would be great. Just great. My brother, Jean Paul, who had built his own house and barn, assured me that I could "shore her up good and tight" with a cable here, a cable there...you know...no problem!
It had its good qualities: it was two homes down from Suzette's mother-in-law so she could drop Emilie off at the in-laws and hang out with me. Of course, she couldn't be drinking on these trips because a) my sisters may drink and drive but they don't do it with KIDS in the car and b) her father-in-law is a local sheriff and c) he doesn't play favorites with family---in fact, she assured me, just the opposite.
Redeemable qualities, other than the "cuteness", the garage/barn and the outside grassy areas, kind of escape me now but at the time I was enthralled with the place. I went there alone, driving by, but not daring to pull into the driveway...I took friends over, their friends and THEIR friends. I made my sister, Marianne, see it when she came home from North Carolina. I pushed that garage door opener like the proud would-be owner that I would be and I grinned that proud grin and I stood on that stoop and I gazed at the apple tree with its wind chimes and coconut shaped bird feeder. I looked across the road at the mailbox that would be mine with its hand-painted flowers and birds. I was in love.
Until the house inspector, Steve, came and took 50 plus pictures of the situations he came across while humming and hawing and staring and shaking his head (mostly at the rusty doored electrical boxes.) Eventually he popped his head into the attic and said the words NO homeowner or attempted homeowner wants to hear, "Yup. We've got mold!"
Steve's 22 page written assessment showed in living color ALL the issues the "Three Bears Home"--as I began referring to it--had. The crawl space had a few issues, the mold was there for all to see and somebody had pretty much jerry rigged the whole place together over the years. Windows were cracked. Neither of the heating units worked at a greater than 50% capacity...and then there was the electrical system. Mostly, it was so ancient that if ONE MORE MOUSE bit into ONE MORE WIRE the entire property (apple trees and all) would go up in flames.
And for that I paid him $375, thank you very much. He thought the electrical upgrades might be in the neighborhood of 5 or 6 thousand, and done over a number of years, I guessed, wouldn't be too far out of reach.
So the seller's agent, my sister (my agent) and I hatched a plan for a "rent to own" situation that would have worked out had I not done the following---gotten a second opinion of what the electrical upgrades would cost..
I persevered, as I always do. I got another Steve to come and do a free electrical inspection. His quote was between 10 and 12 thousand dollars to "get her up to code." I mean, none of us could believe it when we looked up and saw that the main electric line from the POLE was about 4 inches from TOUCHING the roof. So on top of all the issues the Three Bears had, this one was the clincher.
I had begun working on my credit score but no mortgage company or bank in its right mind would lend somebody with my score a dollar fifty. Especially for a place that was certain to burst into flames that very night, leaving nothing but a slab of charred concrete and a bunch of homeless mice. Now even I know that "smoke alarms save lives' and the ones in this place? Wouldn't matter if they were hard wired in (which they were not) because the amps, I was told by both Steves, weren't sufficient enough to plug in a toaster and a washing machine at the same time, but would fry the hell out of a rodent and crisp me up pretty badly in my sleep, if it got the chance.
So, onward and upward to NUMBER THREE
Camp in Elmore
Just driving past the place and looking at the A frame on the hill put me into a trance. It was tiny with a cathedral ceiling, overhead fan, little open kitchen, bedroom in the back across from the bathroom (very important in the middle of the night)--and it had tons of curb appeal. Gardens, a picnic table, a horseshoe pit, a washing machine in a "man cave" a clothes line, a HAMMOCK, a lawn tractor, a huge porch overlooking the water, white birch trees and the piece de resistance? a FIRE PIT for backyard drinking, marshmellow roasting, campfire singalongs and general reverie.
The hell with The Three Bears! I told myself. I'm TOTALLY in love with this one! More in love than I've been in a number of years with anything or anybody. (Which meant it was not going to work out. No how. No way.)
Again, I went to look at it with people I dragged there. We only went inside with the agent--house rules--but we surely peeked into the windows many times. I stopped by the cam on the way to Montpelier one day and took actual photos of "my" budding spring flowers and the babbling brook that went through the property (and under the house, but who cares?) It was up on stilts just like those places on the Outer Banks of North Carolina! If they could live that way? so could I!
The love affair was tumultuous. First it was the cost. Then it was Steve Three (I am not kidding, all three inspectors were named Steve) not the appraiser or the electrician, this guy was a carpenter. He did an appraisal with his 6 year old son in tow, that I only half listened to...I do recall his saying "if it were me, I'd tear the whole thing down and start from scratch!" I only half listened when he said the land was worth more than the camp. But his photos of what was going on UNDER the floor? sobered me up. And fast.
Rodents had torn all the insulation from under the bedroom. So? I thought. I like a cold bedroom. The stilts the place was built on were at 40 degree angles (ok, only three out of the what? 8?) the ground was frozen and icy...um...it was winter! No kidding! And the broken window in the front? Could be replaced for like $150 bucks.
So WHAT if none of the windows were double glazed! So WHAT if there were stress cracks all over the place! So WHAT if the upstairs bedroom wasn't insulated or finished off---no carpet or flooring of any kind! There was a LAKE VIEW (at least this time of year) and a PORCH (not screened in, but it existed) and birch trees (my favorites!) and a babbling brook---well, one of the 10 times I stopped by, there was one. And that little "man cave"--the Hellmore Hilton? that place was big enough to sleep in! That hammock had my name on it! That clothes line was the first I'd seen since the long lost days of childhood!
Well, you guessed it, by the time the appraiser from the mortgage place showed up, I was beginning to notice that the red flags were fading to white. I surrendered to a higher power (or the assessment) and finally came to realize that the sellers were not going to fix ONE MORE THING, namely the septic system--to the tune of $11,000. No mound system for them. They just wanted to unload the thing and call it a day.
HOUSE NUMBER FOUR
This was a place across the lake from the A-frame, on Loop Road. Now I was raised on Mud City Loop, so this place was my destiny, or so I thought at the time. Although the place was "lock key ready" I had been bitten like twice or thrice and I was shy. that place had BAD KARMA written all over her--the tenants didn't want to move, the seller had had some domestic situation years before resulting in her ex-husband landing in prison and for life, not to mention the fact that Loop Road was part of an Association.
And if there is one thing I know about myself it is this: I am not a joiner. I am a rebel. I argue. I debate. I am opinionated and people, grown people, are sometimes afraid of me--not children, strangely--but people of the kind who join associations. So when the seller UPPED her price from my bottom to over my top, it took exactly five seconds for me to email my sister/agent and tell her, "all bets are off."
HOUSE NUMBER FIVE
Dunham Road (Yes, by then I had stopped giving properties "pet names)
Now THIS PLACE had no land whatsoever, was on a main street, had no garage (how dare they? What did they think I was? An animal?) The interior! Was fantastic! It had newly finished hardwood floors all around, a new kitchen, a RED WALL in the living room of white painted old wood, crown molding, columns, stairs that invited you to, you know, decorate for the holidays, pose on for a family portrait or run down wearing a cozy flannel robe and LL Bean slippers on Christmas morning!
I definitely loved that place (or the interior of it) and had the woozy feeling in my tummy just walking into the place (or could it have been the newly varnished floors...) Well, that place went bye bye faster than the prior ones, due to the seller/real estate gal, we'll call her Mrs. Leech, who had shown me the Loop Road place and knew what I could afford, and had UPPED HER PRICE beyond what the place was actually worth. And she did this the night I looked at it. A few days went by and I was champing at that bit being told by Prim not to act too quickly. I really wanted it...which meant I would NEVER HAVE IT. EVER. (When would I learn?) So when my offer was laughed at and the price wobbled around like a child's toy, I sat on my bed, fingers poised over the glass face of my ipad and said, "This? Is bullsh**t!"
I heard the BING of an incomng email and it was Prim! Telling me that the seller was willing to do SOME of the items on my list---meaning plumb the upstairs for a little bathroom, return the pellet stove (you know, so my holidays would be cozy) and that was it. No car port? I couldn't understand why Mr. Leech, the realtor's carpenter husband couldn't just slap one together in half an hour on the weekend and leave it at that!
I literally wrote this email to my sister, "Tell the Leeches to kiss my a **s!" to which Prim responded that she wouldn't be using those exact words, but she would end it and end it now.
I had finally tired of the whole year-long roller coaster ride and gone on-line as of late and I had done my own research. I know Prim will never agree that this is her reality, but I, ME, LITTLE OLD YOURS TRULY found the place I now pay a hefty mortgage to live in. It is in my hometown, within walking distance of the library I borrowed books from as a child and still have a library card for. But best of all my nieces and nephew can walk to my place from the middle and high schools...just like I used to when my older sister had an apartment in town when I was young.
They say what goes around comes around? This? Is coming back around. Thanks be to God, Mother Nature, the universe, the law of attraction or whatever you want to call it. Yes, I am coming around to this idea of home ownership after all. And, most days? I could not be happier.
PART B
I’m writing this
years later—five, in fact. I want to say that it’s been a lot of work and money
to fix up this fixer upper. Lots of planning. Lots of cash deals with some
reputable and some not so reputable carpenters and family members. I could write
an entire book outlining the 6 months of work my drunken cousin and brother
spent on the floors, pouring concrete in the winter and building up a wall
between the garage and the workshop, so my car wouldn’t set fire to the house
or the furnace wouldn’t set fire to my car.
About the early Sunday mornings they knocked on my door so I could run
to the bank and hand over hundreds of dollars. About the one New Year’s Eve where
I literally chased them out into the snow while they struggled with a monstrous
section of the old kitchen island. To be fair they kept screwing around all day
saying they would be done “any minute.” Minutes turned into hours and I
needed to tidy the place up for the
party I was hosting. So I set the timer on the stove and told them they had
exactly one hour and when that timer went off they had better be gone. And
there were times when water sprayed all over the kitchen and cellar. My cousin
got “bitten” by a like 500 watt hot wire. They drove to the hardware store for
the 5th time that day promising to return and did not.
But the list
that was longer than my arm is now only as long as my hand. The big cost items
were the furnace that needed to be replaced the first autumn, the hot water
heater that literally exploded and filled up basement up with water up past my
ankles, floors, electrical work, that kitchen island and cupboards and then all
the work in the ensuite. Now I’m tackling (or my landscaper Eliza is) the yard.
It’s amazing how many trees grow on a hillside you stop mowing in four years!
And although last summer I put my house up for sale and it didn’t sell, it
almost did a few times. This year I am confident that it will sell and I will
be happier somewhere else and will no longer be a happy or unhappy homeowner.
The end.
(see more in the Joys of Home Ownership, Parts 1 and 2)
Friday, January 17, 2014
Joys of Home Ownership--Chapter Two
Part A
We were at the closing (in unbearable mid-July Vermont heat) and when I say "We" I mean half the town, it seemed. Kurt's "power of" attorney, since he was inabsentia, my mortgage broker, Amanda, my sister and Realtor, Bea, my lawyer, Ted and possibly a few others, I think. And we had all been praying that Ted had gotten an air conditioner put in the conference room (he had not) because it was stifling outside and what with body heat and all the anxiety in the room, it was a recipe for disaster. It was a Thursday, because they rarely try to close on Fridays, because, as my realtor sister had informed me more than once, "Something always goes wrong. Always. This can and will literally take hours! And frankly? It might or might not even happen today. Thank God it's Thursday!" Very confidence-inspiring words, right?
So it is going ok and by "OK" I mean I was being told what to sign or initial and I was doing it. Like about 10,000 times. Explanations of this and that were going right through me like water. Everyone paid very strict attention to the details, as if someone was reading a WILL and we were all about to become very, very rich!Of course, when I had questions, I asked them and got answers, sometimes during and sometimes after everyone in the room looked at everyone else like it was a Gun Smoke tv episode shoot out about to happen. Then the checks started to fly. I ended up with a few, Amanda handed Ted one that he may have given to Kurt's lawyer? Bea had one from somewhere. It was all very blurry--and did I mention how HOT it was in there? We were literally fanning ourselves with checks in that office. Even the cold shower I had taken RIGHT BEFORE I went to the closing had worn off by then.
So somebody had the bright idea to open a door! Then the heat really came in like the blast furnace that that day was shaping up to be. A few minutes later, a couple (man/woman) who are apparently notorious around town for stealing things, came by and lifted up the hanging plant that Amanda had purchased and brought there for me (pink, very full blossoms, lovely) and started to walk away. "Nope!" Amanda yells out. "That's ours!" and jumps up from the table to chase after the couple and retrieve the housewarming gift. (Later, Bea told me that Amanda NEVER gives gifts to homeowners and she was really impressed...of course, I did go through all 12 years of school with Amanda and always really liked her, so I wasn't at all surprised.)
After we smiled and laughed about the near-theft, we got back down to business and then a really cool thing happened: another of my many sisters, Sukie, drove by and honked her truck horn. I could see some of my furniture in the back, my antique desk, a few chairs...and she thumbs upped and then thumbs downed. Bea thumbs sideways and Sukie kept going (off to buy a cold drink.) Then the keys to my new home were handed from the power of attorney, to Tim and then to me. I think either everyone clapped or probably not because we were all collapsing from the suffering heat, or shook hands or something and then we all left. I got in my car and Bea said she'd be there in a minute, saying her goodbyes to her pals we had just spent a better half of an afternoon with...
I drove up the street, past the Bijou and every church my little town has every built, turned right up Maple and then looked for the sign (I'd only been there three times before) and when I got to the house, my new home by the woods, there were three nieces and my nephew rising up from the stairs and all clapping their congratulations! It was a heart-warming moment and one I will always remember. The heat just stopped. The shade on one side of the house was cool and a little breeze picked up. I took the keys and they all followed me into the entrance of my ridiculously filthy carpeted yet lovely painted home with two really great bathrooms, with all new siding, windows and roof. The first thing we did? Was rip up the carpets! And the second thing we did? Was have pizza and beer!
We were at the closing (in unbearable mid-July Vermont heat) and when I say "We" I mean half the town, it seemed. Kurt's "power of" attorney, since he was inabsentia, my mortgage broker, Amanda, my sister and Realtor, Bea, my lawyer, Ted and possibly a few others, I think. And we had all been praying that Ted had gotten an air conditioner put in the conference room (he had not) because it was stifling outside and what with body heat and all the anxiety in the room, it was a recipe for disaster. It was a Thursday, because they rarely try to close on Fridays, because, as my realtor sister had informed me more than once, "Something always goes wrong. Always. This can and will literally take hours! And frankly? It might or might not even happen today. Thank God it's Thursday!" Very confidence-inspiring words, right?
So it is going ok and by "OK" I mean I was being told what to sign or initial and I was doing it. Like about 10,000 times. Explanations of this and that were going right through me like water. Everyone paid very strict attention to the details, as if someone was reading a WILL and we were all about to become very, very rich!Of course, when I had questions, I asked them and got answers, sometimes during and sometimes after everyone in the room looked at everyone else like it was a Gun Smoke tv episode shoot out about to happen. Then the checks started to fly. I ended up with a few, Amanda handed Ted one that he may have given to Kurt's lawyer? Bea had one from somewhere. It was all very blurry--and did I mention how HOT it was in there? We were literally fanning ourselves with checks in that office. Even the cold shower I had taken RIGHT BEFORE I went to the closing had worn off by then.
So somebody had the bright idea to open a door! Then the heat really came in like the blast furnace that that day was shaping up to be. A few minutes later, a couple (man/woman) who are apparently notorious around town for stealing things, came by and lifted up the hanging plant that Amanda had purchased and brought there for me (pink, very full blossoms, lovely) and started to walk away. "Nope!" Amanda yells out. "That's ours!" and jumps up from the table to chase after the couple and retrieve the housewarming gift. (Later, Bea told me that Amanda NEVER gives gifts to homeowners and she was really impressed...of course, I did go through all 12 years of school with Amanda and always really liked her, so I wasn't at all surprised.)
After we smiled and laughed about the near-theft, we got back down to business and then a really cool thing happened: another of my many sisters, Sukie, drove by and honked her truck horn. I could see some of my furniture in the back, my antique desk, a few chairs...and she thumbs upped and then thumbs downed. Bea thumbs sideways and Sukie kept going (off to buy a cold drink.) Then the keys to my new home were handed from the power of attorney, to Tim and then to me. I think either everyone clapped or probably not because we were all collapsing from the suffering heat, or shook hands or something and then we all left. I got in my car and Bea said she'd be there in a minute, saying her goodbyes to her pals we had just spent a better half of an afternoon with...
I drove up the street, past the Bijou and every church my little town has every built, turned right up Maple and then looked for the sign (I'd only been there three times before) and when I got to the house, my new home by the woods, there were three nieces and my nephew rising up from the stairs and all clapping their congratulations! It was a heart-warming moment and one I will always remember. The heat just stopped. The shade on one side of the house was cool and a little breeze picked up. I took the keys and they all followed me into the entrance of my ridiculously filthy carpeted yet lovely painted home with two really great bathrooms, with all new siding, windows and roof. The first thing we did? Was rip up the carpets! And the second thing we did? Was have pizza and beer!
Saturday, January 11, 2014
In Your Face, FaceBook
I'm like everyone else I know...I have a Face Book page. And like many of my real friends (you know, those I actually know in real life?) I check it often, sometimes daily. I am not like others of my friends who "Face Book stalk" the rest of us. The voyeurs. I know a few of those only because I run into them from time to time and they make comments about my Face Book posts. "Oh, I saw that you bought a house" for example. Probably five people have made that comment and when they say that, I think, "Who told you THAT?" Because they? Are not posting anything about themselves so I almost forgot they are still alive.
There are many good things about Face Book and many not so good, as far as I am concerned.
BAD THINGS ABOUT FACE BOOK:
People can and do
GOOD THINGS ABOUT FACE BOOK
Face Book does keep us in touch with those we let into our feed. It can be used to find lost dogs, create Amber Alerts, plead for those needing our money, love and prayers, show care and concern, keep us laughing. It is a forum for us to show allegiance to our home teams, to our President, to Bernie Sanders (my personal hero) and our mayor. It can help alleviate boredom. Keep us connected. Help us to remember that we are all social beings and we do need one another.
Granted, I don't really NEED to know about my cousin Rose's "squats" at the gym but it is nice to see that she is surviving the breakup with her ex-fiance and getting back out there. I don't NEED to know that Matt ran 10 miles yesterday but it's great to know it makes him happy and fit, I don't NEED to hear about Carol's next singing debut at Bella's, but it is nice to know that she is out there doing what she loves--and yes, I will buy your new CD, Carol! It is great to hear that Michelle is getting on with her life, that Jodi appreciates her family, that Julie is still skiing Stowe, that Lyle still watches the news, that Gillian's kids are still doing "science experiments" on the living room sofa.
So, for all the bad things that Face Book puts us through? It also allows us a sense of community that prior to this on-line one? Other than through family and work? I did not feel. A woman at work is forever using the statement "It takes a village." We do need one another, not only to survive...but to thrive.
And when you have a birthday?Best wishes come in droves. Or lose a brother to a heart attack? Those you barely know will wish you luck, pray for you. Sincerely come right out of the woodwork and message you, get your mailing address and send you a sympathy card. Folks who, prior to Face Book, were just acquaintances. Because, like it or not, Face Book IS a village.
.
And, do not forget, folks: if you don't like something someone posts on Face Book, you can "hide" their post, turn them in or "unfriend them." There are security options galore if you educate yourself to them.
A word to the wise, though? Don't let the marauders know you are out of town by posting it on Face Book. You may just come home to an empty shell of a house...but if that happens? You can always post it on Face Book and get the village to give you a hand in righting that wrong.
There are many good things about Face Book and many not so good, as far as I am concerned.
BAD THINGS ABOUT FACE BOOK:
People can and do
- read your posts without your knowing it
- show off all their accomplishments, no matter how minimal (I worked out in the gym today, whoot whoot)
- post some ugly things (like pig roast meals and photos of celebrities cellulite)
- show their allegiance to political issues/candidates that you despise
- ask personal questions about your posts that you must defend
- "unfriend" you without your knowing it
- post photos of their FOOD==again, some ugly stuff like "ribs" and "wings" YIKES
- say really trite things such as "Is it me or is it COLD out there?" In winter. In Vermont.
- go on tangents about football, baseball and hockey
- post photos of their pets on sofas, wearing stupid clothing and those big plastic clowny sunglasses
- drunk post (need I say more?)
Face Book can and does
- place ads by posting on your home page
- say you "like" stuff you have never heard of
- BLOCK YOU from getting in touch with someone who you may or may not have dated back in the '80's
- stop you from using Face Book for 7 days, which in FB world is an eternity
- sell your "likes" to I'm guessing Google, Amazon and any other high bidder
- "suggest" things to you such as that you might like to date "men over 45" or use "compression garments"
- scroll an unending stream of crap through your peripheral vision 24/7/365
- move that stream of crap SO CLOSE to your computer home keys that you accidentally pinky touch the crap at least once every session
- make assumptions about what you may want to do, purchase, watch, know about
These things I know. So sometimes I think "If I have to look at one more sad, beat up kennel puppy I am turning this computer off once and for all!" And I go to warm, safe, easy to manage PINTEREST! Eventually I get bored looking a lovely moonlit skies, ways to DIY crafty crafts on a budget, pinning lovely front doors and natural images...But then, the inevitable comes and I think, "Hey, I wonder what words of inspiration Vicki has today?" or "I think it's someone's birthday today" and it all comes tumbling down.
GOOD THINGS ABOUT FACE BOOK
Face Book does keep us in touch with those we let into our feed. It can be used to find lost dogs, create Amber Alerts, plead for those needing our money, love and prayers, show care and concern, keep us laughing. It is a forum for us to show allegiance to our home teams, to our President, to Bernie Sanders (my personal hero) and our mayor. It can help alleviate boredom. Keep us connected. Help us to remember that we are all social beings and we do need one another.
Granted, I don't really NEED to know about my cousin Rose's "squats" at the gym but it is nice to see that she is surviving the breakup with her ex-fiance and getting back out there. I don't NEED to know that Matt ran 10 miles yesterday but it's great to know it makes him happy and fit, I don't NEED to hear about Carol's next singing debut at Bella's, but it is nice to know that she is out there doing what she loves--and yes, I will buy your new CD, Carol! It is great to hear that Michelle is getting on with her life, that Jodi appreciates her family, that Julie is still skiing Stowe, that Lyle still watches the news, that Gillian's kids are still doing "science experiments" on the living room sofa.
So, for all the bad things that Face Book puts us through? It also allows us a sense of community that prior to this on-line one? Other than through family and work? I did not feel. A woman at work is forever using the statement "It takes a village." We do need one another, not only to survive...but to thrive.
And when you have a birthday?Best wishes come in droves. Or lose a brother to a heart attack? Those you barely know will wish you luck, pray for you. Sincerely come right out of the woodwork and message you, get your mailing address and send you a sympathy card. Folks who, prior to Face Book, were just acquaintances. Because, like it or not, Face Book IS a village.
.
And, do not forget, folks: if you don't like something someone posts on Face Book, you can "hide" their post, turn them in or "unfriend them." There are security options galore if you educate yourself to them.
A word to the wise, though? Don't let the marauders know you are out of town by posting it on Face Book. You may just come home to an empty shell of a house...but if that happens? You can always post it on Face Book and get the village to give you a hand in righting that wrong.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)