A Tale of Two letters

    Ever since I first learned how to sound out letters, the power of the written word has impressed me. Reading became a passion and I found books could whisk me away into a different time and place, having the ability to both educate and entertain me for hours on end.

     Not everyone is hardwired to read books, but just about everyone reads. Our social media is filled with quips and tips. Even something as brief as a tweet can inspire. A text can reprimand or uplift. A post can generate conversation, debate, support, or hate. 

   As for myself, my love for reading evolved until I found myself writing. I have the power to make people think, laugh, get angry, and even cry. I've written (note, I didn't say published) many works that have done just that.

  Writing is hard work. Sometimes it keeps me up at night. Other times it wakes me up at ungodly hours in the morning and requires me to drink copious amounts of coffee. Yet I would never give it up. It stirs something in the very core of my being. Maybe it is joy, or maybe it is the manifestation of underlying control issues.

Your guess is as good as mine.

  Recently I was asked to write two letters. This is the tale of those two letters.

   The first I almost didn't write. It was a victim impact letter. If you have never written one, I pray you never will.

    The purpose of the letter is to somehow impress upon the reader the value of human life and tremendous impact poor choices and deliberately harmful behaviour has on the community. It is especially difficult to write when those poor choices have resulted in the death of someone you love. I have never written anything so difficult in my life. Nor did I expect it to have any real impact. After all, there are prescribed sentences for various offences, many of which are paltry when compared to the crime. Writing felt like a pointless activity. The case had already become a plea bargain and was not going to trial.Yet many of us did write those letters, working through anger and sorrow to make our voices and the voice of the one we loved heard. It wasn't cathartic. None of what we put down could change the past or make the present any easier.

   Despite my misgivings, it turned out the letters were not pointless. Those letters were read. Maybe not by the world at large, but both the attorneys and the judge presiding over the case read every single one of the eighteen missives produced by family and friends. Two of the letters were read aloud in court.

   The result... the judge pointed out something to the prosecutor and the plea bargain agreement was changed to increase time to be served. A year is not a huge victory, but in a legal structure littered with underwhelming sentences for serious offenses, it was a positive result in an otherwise flawed system.

The second letter was less painful, but still not easy. I had to get past my ego first.

   This time it was a request. Making a request that doesn't sound like a demand can be difficult, but making a request that is costly is even harder. Now add to the mix that the request will only benefit a small number of people and the rest who will be helping to foot the bill will not likely understand the need.

   I'm talking about updating a building entrance to make it accessible for those with disabilities. At least I wasn't asking for new doors or a ramp to accompany the automated door opener. Why was I asking for this?

  No, this is not my normal mode of transportation, but I have been forced to use it in the past. If you look at the photo more closely, you might see an odd device strapped to my leg. I like to tell people it's a court ordered monitoring device... but the truth is, it is a neurostimulator. A nifty gadget to help a person walk when the brain signals do not quite reach the intended limbs.

  Unfortunately, my abilities have not improved over time and I am currently using a semi-effective leg brace and my husband's right arm for support. If this continues much longer, he will need customized shirts or ones with longer sleeves so he can cuff the left side.

   My husband has suggested a cane or walker to help me remain independent, a proposal that I am not ready to embrace as of yet. Probably a good thing, since I would have been hard pressed to enter church a few weeks ago. Typically there is someone at the door to hold it open, but this was one of the rare occasions where there was no one available and I was walking alone. The doors can be a bit cumbersome and I'm not swift on two feet. Add an assistance device (cane, walker, wheelchair) and I am downright dangerous. If I had to manage the door with said device and the horrible balance issues I was experiencing that day, chances are I would still be outside of church, laying on the ground swearing, a cane sticking out of my eye.

Not a good image for a parishioner.

  So I wrote a letter. I explained my dilemma and my appreciation that there is usually someone manning the doors, but how this is not always a feasible option. To my surprise, the response was quick and affirmative. Sometime in the next three weeks a automatic door opener will be installed. Wow, talk about answer to a prayer!

   I'm a writer. I should know the power of the written word. I want you to believe it too. Still have doubts? Can you remember the last review you read before you purchased an item? Do you have a favorite line from a movie? A tweet that inspired you? A text that made you smile?

   Someone wrote these...

The letters made a difference.

Now it is time for me to do some more writing, lest I stop breathing.

By the way, if anyone is asking, I injured my leg wrestling alligators.

Live Entertainment is Back!

   I've never been a crowd person. Large, noisy gatherings tend to make me anxious and defensive. I don't know why. Maybe because when all you can see is the backsides of other people, most of whom are taller than you, the potential of being trampled to death seems somehow much more likely.

I know, what is the likely-hood of being trampled in a crowd of relatively peaceful people?

Well, actually, I have been knocked over when there were no real crowds. The resulting injury left me with no option but to keep walking hobbling for several miles until I could get someplace I could remove my boots and possibly seek first aid.

I've been told being knocked over was not a result of my stature, but the fact that I walk slowly and with an uneven gait.

Whatever.

The point is, the danger is real.

   So to venture out on the 4th of July to the park filled with crowds of hot, hungry people to see a 100 year anniversary firework show was quite a feat. One I achieved with lots of acetaminophen. I know what you're thinking... acetaminophen doesn't help with anxiety. No, it doesn't, but it does help on days when you wake up feeling like you got beat up with a Louisville Slugger and can barely walk. Thank you screwed up auto-immune system and the disease that made it that way. Nevertheless, I was determined not to miss spending the holiday with family and friends, especially after a year of pandemic confinement.

  Unsteady and crabby, I headed out, snapping and snarling the entire way. I apologized so much for my attitude I was mistaken for a Canadian, but for a change, I wasn't the entertainment. That role was handled by the teeming crowds around me.

People are funny.

   First of all, let me say schools have been somewhat successful in teaching people to stand in line. Well mostly. I mean, there was a general semblance of a line that cut through our picnic area and headed toward the multiple food trucks parked at the curb. But having taught the basics of forming lines, schools stopped, not wanting to overload their students with more than the basics. The lines were chaotic affairs resulting in confusion and trampling blankets. One of which I was laying on  as I contemplated more acetaminophen while recovering from a trip to the port-a-potty.

 

   After having food spilled on me, I opted to leave the blanket where I risked being stepped on to take refuge in a chair behind the coolers where I could view the entertainment in relative safety. Eventually my husband got tired of watching people trip over other folk's belongings only to discover they were in the wrong line for the food they wanted (or not in line at all, but standing behind a group of picnickers who had staked their spot out earlier and were trying to keep their children from being trampled), and using his "official" voice, separated the lines to angle off in different directions.

He has an amazing voice, one that bespeaks calm and authority.

At any rate, everyone listened and no one argued. It was pretty cool.

   Now ensconced in the relative safety of my chair I awaited sunset and the start of what promised to be a spectacular firework display. 

  

 No, not talking about the unsanctioned display.

Seriously, what kind of adult has his kids play with mini firework displays in a crowd?

Especially when the mini display is specifically banned?

   

I was waiting for the REAL display to take place far over our heads
with earth shaking booms and dazzling displays of pyrotechnics put on by the professionals. Unfortunately, as darkness began to descend, I began to detect what could be a potentially glaring problem.

   

Not all the food vendors stopped serving at the appointed time. It wasn't a surprise, wait time in the lines to obtain food was an hour long. I didn't begrudge anyone a late dinner or the vendors making an
extra buck after a lean year, but I wasn't the only one in the vicinity becoming concerned about display viewing. People all around us were beginning to grumble. So my husband did what any mature adult would do in such a situation, he spoke to the event staff.

 

As you may have guessed, they were as responsive to his request they speak with the food vendor as they were addressing the sparkler family.

The fireworks began.

   I had just enough. So had everyone else. I decided to address the matter myself. Thankfully, the acetaminophen kicked in, otherwise this might be a blog about my subsequent arrest. (Of course my faithful husband accompanied me, just in case my temper was stronger than the meds.)

   Putting on my good manners and using my polite voice (yes, I have one) I asked the owner of the truck if he could kindly turn off the outside lights on his truck. He was a bit irritated, so I followed this up by telling him we very much appreciated his consideration. As he grumbled his way into the truck, I called out a thank you and made my way back to my seat.

   The exterior light went off. The kids around us gave their thanks.

THEN THE TRUCK LIGHTS WENT BACK ON!

   Did I see duct tape in my loving spouse's hand when he told me to stay put? Not sure, I remained seated while my husband headed back toward the event staff before things could get out of hand. Unfortunately he was too late. Other, less medicated and less understanding individuals decided to address the matter themselves using less than civil tactics. The firework display was augmented with an increased police presence and muted flashing blue lights.

   Evidently someone pulled the plug on the truck, damaging it in the process. I felt bad for the business owner. I felt bad for the police trying to find the culprit in the masses. I felt bad for anyone who didn't get their dinner. Fortunately, no one was physically harmed in this totally avoidable circumstance.

   The fireworks were terrific, supplemental entertainment non-withstanding. I'm looking forward to the future live events.

2020 Part II: Easily Amused

Recently we acquired a Ring doorbell and is it a hoot!

   It's not something we would have purchased on our own, we weren't looking for any new devices, but when my sister-in-law upgraded the system they had on their home, they offered us the old one. At first it sat for about two weeks on the microwave in the kitchen (where everything we are unsure of what to do with goes until someone breaks down and makes a decision). Then it moved to the office floor for another week or so, because isn't that where everyone puts stuff they don't know what to do with?

   The new doorbell wasn't really necessary. After all, we did have a working doorbell, albeit the old fashioned kind where you push a button and it makes a ding-dong sound through a box mounted in the stairway and it worked just fine.

If it's not broke, don't fix it.

Unless someone has given you an exciting new toy to replace it.

   Cleaning away the accumulated junk now on the floor in our office, we reviewed this new acquisition. Since it didn't require a subscription to operate, we thought, why not?

My husband installed it with very little difficulty.

   After he synced it to our wifi, I downloaded the app. That's when the fun started!

   Now the first thing we did was practice ringing the doorbell. I mean, it's not like we didn't know how to use a doorbell, but it had been a long time since we actually pressed the button. Doorbells are notorious for not working and once you push that button, there is no way to know if it actually signaled anyone inside the house as to your presence on the porch. Then you are stuck with the dilemma of trying to decide if you should ring again, or if that might strike the occupants as pushy and impatient.

Most of the time we just knock.

There is no guessing with knocking.

   This doorbell was different. It gave off a tone when pressed so the user would know it was working. The immediate gratification was like getting a treat when you performed a trick. A really simple trick, but hey, some of the best things in life are simple. Once rewarded, who cares if no actually answers the door because they're either not home or are actively ignoring/avoiding you.

   Once the novelty of this instant gratification wore off, we began exploring all the other features offered with our new toy. There were a lot of functions that only worked with a subscription, which we promptly ignored. However, there were some really cool options available without the subscription. For instance, we could receive an alert when there was motion at the front door. Any motion at all, including dance moves. Apparently the button is obsolete and just there to make homeowners feel better about their purchase. 

   Even neater than being alerted there was someone standing (or dancing) on our front porch was the camera function. With just a few taps on my smarter-than-me phone, I could see live video footage of exciting events unfolding in front of my home...

 

I no longer had to be home to stare out my front window.

It's amazing where technology has taken us.

   With our new toy we were able to engage our teenager in conversation after she had gone outside to avoid answering questions while she waited for a ride. We didn't even have to leave the comfort of our couch inside our warm living room!

She was obviously pleased with our newfound abilities. 

 

   

We found we could also select a live view on our phones at any time, day or night...

   

Just one small problem, identifying someone during a pandemic can be a bit tricky.  

Unless of course you're this guy!

2020 Part II: Not more Meatballs!

   Since the beginning of the pandemic, millions of Americans have found themselves trying to make ends meet on unemployment and savings (or lack thereof) as workplaces are forced to close and more people search for employment in a diminished job market. We have been no exception and look forward to the months ahead as the vaccine for Covid-19 rolls out and makes the possibility of returning to our normal lives. Or some variation of normal.

As long as that normal doesn't include meatballs, we're all good!

   We've been through prolonged unemployment before, so we knew the drill. Bills still need to be paid, insurance premiums met, school fees covered, groceries to be purchased. Groceries can be a biggie, especially since we have one high schooler and one college kid living with us and they seem to think we should feed them on a regular basis. In order to maintain a healthy balance, we have taken advantage of food drives through my husband's union.

   I'm extremely grateful for the food drives.

But if I look at another meatball, I'm going to hurt someone.

   At first, I took the 4lb packages of meatballs as a challenge. I began to research what you could make with meatballs (besides spaghetti and meatballs which we did have once or twice). Turns out there are a lot of things you can make!

   We had barbecued meatballs, meatball skillet, meatball stir fry, swedish meatballs, meatball lasagna, meatball casserole, German meatballs, Hawaiian meatballs, meatball sandwiches with marinara sauce...

Then there was the meatball taco ring...

And sweet and sour meatballs...

I think you get the idea...

   But, despite numerous meatball dishes, sharing meatballs with other families, and even trading them for other pantry items, there are still more meatballs to be had!

   

   Perhaps I should be researching alternative uses for meatballs. Like meatball billiards, or meatball bingo place holders. I could start my own line of meatball sculptures, or maybe create meatball candles. I wonder if it would be possible to use meatballs as a fuel alternative....

Well, that might be going a little too far. I should probably stick to marketing them as snowman building accessories. Snow sculpture has been a big thing this year. If I buy carrots I could make it a package.

Let out an Loopy - Episode 6 - Escape is an illusion

   As 2020 Part II begins, I reflect on the last year of Pandemic Adventures.    

 

   

   Our daughter got her driver license! She had already passed her written and driving tests, had more than the required driving hours, and fulfilled the nine month waiting period from the time her permit was issued. Once the drivers facilities reopened, she was all ready...Unfortunately, one of the documents she needed to obtain said license was in the safe deposit box at the bank where the lobby had yet to open for customers. So began the adventure of retrieving items from the bank.

   It started with making an appointment. Yes, an appointment. To make this appointment, I needed to send an email request to the bank. Not a phone call, not schedule an appointment on their app, no, I needed to send an email after which I had to allow 24 to 48 hours for a reply. Fortunately, I received a response right away. The reply stated the following: 

• Appointments only available on Tuesdays and Thursdays
• Appointments only available between 9:30am and 1:30pm, first come, first served basis.
• No next day appointments.
• Appointments REQUIRED.
• Provide your name, bank location, safe box number, account number.
• Must have photo ID at time of appointment.
• Masks required to enter the lobby.

   Thank goodness it wasn't an emergency. I'm not sure what people who are working and cannot flex their hours are supposed to do. I felt a vague sense of irritation at the whole email process to start with and I was now edging toward annoyance at the prolonged wait time. I waited a week.

   Fast forward to the date of the appointment - I arrive at the bank fully masked at my appointed time.

After verifying my appointment at the door, they ask to see my photo ID.

Ummmm...I'm not sure how that works with me wearing a mask.

Perhaps I should lower my mask?

No, not necessary.

Okay then. (silently thinks maybe they should rethink their procedures)

   After a really odd comment from the banker about how I should try wearing a mask for 8 hours a day (he assumes I don't), I was led to a teller to so I could obtain my personal belongings. Interestingly enough, there were marks on the floor to ensure social distancing for the non-existent customers.

I emptied the box. I had little confidence I would ever be able to access it again.

   My daughter now had the documents needed but by now the line at the DMV spanned the entire length of the building and stretched into the next town. It had been a week since the DMV opened and so now everyone was trying to take care of business. Coupled with blazing sun and ninety degree weather, we had decided to wait a little longer. Not too much longer, mind you, we didn't want the permit to expire and complicate matters.

   Instead, we decided it was time to take yet another camping excursion to one of the surrounding states. You may remember from my previous post that due to the prolonged pandemic, our original vacation plans to visit the entire western United States had to be cancelled. There were concerns of overcrowding, lack of facilities, and an underlying current of hostility that seemed to clash with the idea of a relaxing vacation.

(Cancelling turned out to be a good idea. Some of the National Parks moved to Day Use reservations - with an additional fee beyond the park pass!)

   Like our previous destination, the state we chose was further along in reopening phases than our own state (which still hadn't figured out that camping is by definition social distancing). We also speculated it might be less hot.

Less hot, yes. Further along, well it depends on how you look at things.

   When booking our campsite, the web page indicated we could purchase our state park pass at the gate (the website was later updated). Imagine our chagrin when we arrived only to discover the only way to obtain the park pass was to call the number listed on the building, an impossible feat since we had no cell service in the area. After setting up camp, we headed into town where we could access some spotty service and make a call, only to find the office had already closed for the day - an hour before check in time at the campground! Deciding not to worry about it, we made the call the next day and successfully purchased a pass, which they would mail to us. When we explained we were already at the park, they cheerfully told us not to worry, an email would also be forthcoming with a receipt we could print. All the pass number details would be on the receipt.

   It was another one of those Ummm moments. Did they honestly think we travelled with a printer in our camper? We decided the best we could do was write the number down and put it on the dashboard, provided we could actually get the email with our crappy cell signal. To our delight, we discovered free wifi in the park! We received the email, unfortunately the information we needed was in a PDF which we were unable to download because signal strength of the free wifi wasn't quite powerful enough... Sigh. 

We took a screenshot of the confirmation email containing the PDF and crossed our fingers that park wardens would understand if we were questioned. I do give the staff points for being cheerful and friendly. Moreover, no one seemed overly concerned that we also didn't have our social distancing cow with us!

   

   Next thing I knew, it was fall - time for school to start again, but not full time school. Instead our district adopted hybrid learning (two half days in school, two remote days, one catch up/make up/tutoring day). This switched back to remote learning when the positivity rate went up in our area, then back to hybrid when the numbers went down. Lucky for us we had the space to make a school room. Kid really likes her space. Maybe a little too much. After we went to remote learning she was not too keen on returning to hybrid. Longer commute you know. Note: the shorter commute for remote learning didn't prevent her from being late one day.

   Meanwhile, between job searching and part time work, my husband and I had a construction project to supervise out front our house. The township put in new sewers, water lines, fire hydrants, curbs and streets.        Our yard became more entertaining than TV!

Part of our driveway was replaced...

   

Supervisor's dog

And we made new friends!

 

 However, all this excitement wasn't enough for us, so we decided to do a little construction of our own...

   Refinishing the old hardwood floors in our living room and dining room seemed like a good idea. Even though it cut the kitchen off from the rest of the house...as well as the entrances and exits...and all the toilets...of course, the stairs had to be refinished too. After the floors, the 1998 entertainment center seemed just too shabby. Soooo after a little curbside shopping and a bit of (major) refinishing, we had a new place to put the tv and to store...okay, then we had to purge a lot of useless stuff, like VHS tapes we could no longer play and consolidate our CD/DVD collection, as well as pare down the vinyl records. Oh, and new trim, cause the old stuff...ummm, no way we could keep the old stuff. But before the floors were done we replaced the dining room ceiling...

            

Perhaps we were just plain loopy.