New Camera

Well, I did it.  I broke down and bought a new little camera to replace the one that disappeared.  I know that one of the rules of life states that as soon as I popped for a new one, the other one would turn up.  I told hubby that the purchase was certainly worth it if only to know where the other one has been.  So far, though, we haven't seen it.

I read the reviews to see if I maybe should switch to a Nikon Cool Pix, but this camera won me over.  With some little cameras you could get 12 megapixels, but who needs that?  I don't plan to make posters.  And some reviewers say because of the difficulty of squeezing in that many pixels, some of the pictures are "noisier."  This little camera is a lot like the one I lost, with a few new features.  I am taking VERY good care of this one.  When my other one shows up, I'll tell you where it has been hiding.

Finally, it was less money than I paid for my older one, and from the Costco pack I also got a leather case and a bonus 2 GB SD card.  Pretty cool. 

A new collection of vanity plates

I had 13 recordings on my phone of new personalized license plates I've seen.  I'm not sure why they are also called vanity plates, although there are a few that lend themselves to that way of thinking:  A silver sedan was BUILDT; a black BMW coupe was SO SEXY; and a big, black Sierra truck was NICE HUH.  But there is the difficulty of whether the plate is referring to the vehicle or its owner.  The occupants are much harder to read.

Then, on the other hand: a big, red Dodge truck was OLD DUDE, but the old dude's wife was driving.  And I wasn't sure about the charcoal-gray Dodge truck that was DIRT DR.  Can just anyone be a soil physician?  Exactly what does that entail?  Is there much study involved?

Some plates convey an attitude like the white Honda sedan that said HOME (too much time in the car?), or the PT Cruiser convertible that was COZZEE.  Another PT Cruiser (black this time) was TUMCHFN, and a pretty blue Jaguar was LOCAL (but I don't remember whether or not it was a Utah plate).  Maybe the Jag is comfortable anywhere.  I'm guessing a Jaguar owner can afford to be.  

Somewhere I saw ITHAPNS.  I made the recording standing outside in the wind and I couldn't tell what I said the vehicle was.  It would have been very clever on an older car with dents and paint problems.  BUBBSY was on a red coupe, and I am assuming that it was an endearing nickname; a gray Honda said ANT HIL.  That could mean a lovely aunt named Hilary or Hilda, or a home for 6-legged insects--maybe both.

My favorite, though, was on a cute yellow convertible Thunderbird.  It's a favorite quote from a movie my family has watched multiple times: ASUWISH.

Until next time...

What's in a name?

A columnist in my newspaper really made a good point, and I want to share part of his column.  I know that every child is unique, and every parent wants to make sure we all recognize that individuality.  But, pleeaase, have a heart.  Any of us who have spent time in large groups of children (from preschool up) know that names can be a source of great amusement.  You young parents to be need to be aware of the difficulties when names are too odd, spelled in unusual ways, or require constant repeating.  

The columnist is Doug Robinson: 

 Apparently, my recent column  on weird people names struck a nerve. There are strong feelings about alternate  spellings — Soozy, Mychal, Stefanee, Arika — and “made-up” names— Diggery, Moon Unit, Lea (I’ll explain later) and so forth.

  One reader wrote:  At my job, I take appointments, and I’m required to write down the person’s name with correct spelling. The strangest spelling I’ve ever seen is the name “Susie”— spelled “Siouxzy.”

That poor girl would automatically have to spell her name every time!  He continues:

  From a reader named Jo Ellen:  Two true stories from a niece who worked as a nurse in a St. Louis, Mo., hospital: A baby named “Le-a.” Want to try to guess the pronunciation? “Ladash-  a.” (Note: This name was reported by several readers, as was Da-Da or “DaDashda”).  There was also a baby boy named Marco. Want to try to guess the pronunciation? “D-marco.”

   To quote the mother,  “The d is invisible.” 

Invisible letters...quite a trick.  Besides, Le-a should really be pronounced Lahyphena, but maybe I shouldn't give anyone ideas.

He has some general guidelines he thinks parents should follow.  I think they are pretty darn sensible.

1. If you can’t walk into a truck stop or gift shop and find a key chain or a coffee cup with that name or the same spelling, then try something else. 2. You must be able to determine  the gender of the child when you hear/see the name.

  No more girls named Stevie, Mychal, Jordan, Chase, Devon, Drew, Kyle or, for all we know, Harold and Arthur.

There are lots of unisex names: Morgan, Tyler (yes), Tracy, Kelly, Kris (Chris), etc.

  3. You must be able to say it when you see it. Use of punctuation  doesn’t even come up for consideration. Le-a is out. If you plan to name your next kid “& Smith” or “* Johnson” and expect anyone to call him/her “Asterisk” or “Ampersand,” think again.

  4. You should be able to spell the name when you hear it — for the most part, people should not have to ask. Let’s nationalize the spelling of some names and move on — is it Shayne, Shane, Shain, LeShane? Attention,  future parents, if you have doubts about the spelling  of a name, ask for help.

Different can be good, but it can also be a real pain.  He has more general rules.

 5. Please, enough already with using last names for first names — Taylor, Kennedy, Madison, Johnson, Anderson, Lincoln.

  6. No naming kids after weather phenomena— Misty, Dusty, Smoky, Winter, Autumn (Autymn), Spring, Stormy (Stormee), Windy (Windee), Nimbus, Precipitation,  Humidity (Humiditee) and so forth. Those are pony names, not human names.

  7. It must be a name for people, not for objects, etc.  “Apple,” doesn’t cut it, and neither does Avocado nor Celery nor any other fruit or vegetable.

  8. If you get too cute with the name, you’re probably trying  too hard. A reader named Derek (Darrick?) reports that a co-worker gathered these names from his Facebook account: Jermagesty, Tequila, Bacardi, Champagne, Abcde (pronounced like “rhapsody”).

I heard a young mother in a store, calling to her runaway toddler, "McCartney, come back."  Obviously, I'm not sure of the spelling, although I thought immediately of Paul--must be my age.

His last bit of wisdom was about using great characters, like from the Bible, for names.  Lots of pressure for Abrahams, Isaacs, and Jacobs.

Mom and I have talked about this too and we agree that if a child is exceptionally bright, friendly, and beautiful, he/she can survive a weird name.  But, woe be to a child who has any weaknesses.  

As I have many young nieces and nephews who are planning parenthood, I hope they read his last thought: “A man’s name is not like a mantle which merely hangs about him, and which one perchance may safely twitch and pull, but a perfectly fitting  garment, which, like the skin, has grown over and over him, at which one cannot rake and scrape without injuring the man himself.”  

He ended by signing, Duhg Robynson, but he could have used another y.

Newspaper Corrections silliness

Just a quick thought before I go to exercise this morning: I need some language help again.  I've posted before about the strangeness of newspaper corrections, and I'm still confused.

My newspaper printed a couple of corrections today because a man accused of a crime was "incorrectly identified" in the paper yesterday.  Does that mean the wrong man was identified yesterday?  The picture is the same.  Shouldn't he have been identified yesterday?  Was the middle name they used yesterday not his?  

Even more confusing: a city was "misidentified."  Just how does that happen?  Is the city in the correction accurately identified?  Was a different city in the paper before?  Did someone spell something wrong?  

I hope my city isn't misidentified, unless it's for something bad, then maybe it is okay, but what if it is incorrectly identified?  Is that different?  Is it better to be incorrectly identified or misidentified?  I'm so baffled.

Lost forever?

I'm having trouble with a real mystery.  I have a Canon EOS Rebel camera that I got quite a few years ago.  It is a lovely camera, but when planning our trip to Italy last year I wanted something smaller.  So, I bought a little Canon ELPH.  It was so convenient and easy to carry, and the menus were much like my other Canon so there was little to learn.  It took good pictures and because it was so small, I carried it around all the time.

I can't find it!  I used it for the SkyWatch posting on April 23, and I took it when hubby and I went to visit our parents a couple of days later.  That's where my memory ends.  I don't remember getting it out at either place (and our parents don't remember seeing it).  I drove back to the city early the next week and made sure to pack the battery charger, but don't recall packing the camera.  We have looked everywhere!  

This really bugs me because I don't normally lose things.  Hubby has been known to misplace stuff from time to time, but I usually know where things are.  Until now.  This is soooo frustrating.  I've checked in the logical places, the weird places, and the bizarre places.  Where could it be?

Hubby's solution is that we'll buy me another one before our cruise in June.  You know what will happen?  As soon as I have a new one, the lost one will turn up.  But that's not possible, I've looked everywhere.  There must be a hole in the space/time continuum.

The last one?

Maybe this is the final installment.  There are some real truths underneath the humor.

I'd better go now and check my Facebook page to see if anyone wants to be my "friend."  Then I think I'll go out and actually converse with people for a while.  Moderation in all things.  

To Twitter or not to Twitter?

I guess Brian Crane is thinking about the technological world in sort of the same way I have been, only he's funnier and a much better artist.
I'll be interested to see what's in tomorrow's newspaper.  In the meantime, I'll try and figure out something to post that actually belongs to me.

Follow up

Here's the next Pickles about blogging.  I thought I'd share. 

Of course, I don't advocate violence....but it is a comic strip and it made me chuckle.

Blogging sounds bad?

Don't have much time for a thoughtful, considered post today.  I have to do a couple of things then be ready when hubby finishes his work week.  We are in the city and he will drive our 300 miles home with me this time.  But, this comic was in my newspaper this morning and I thought others may enjoy it too.  

My youngest son tells me I need a FaceBook page and although I'm considering that, I refuse to Twitter.  I'm not sure anyone needs to know--or cares--that much about what I'm doing.   Are young people forgetting how to socialize and speak to each other in person?  I hope not.

Finally gotten around to it.

I've finally taken the time to post and give credit for several awards fellow bloggers have bestowed on me.  I do, and did, appreciate them.  It just took me almost forever to do something with them.  Even that was with the patient instruction of one of the award presenters.  Thank you.  

Next, I need to figure out how to give an award myself.  I'll work on that; hopefully it won't take nearly as long.

Last old slide.

This is the last of grandma's slides that show the dresses my mother made for me--at least since I was about 12 years old.  I know my sisters could put together a similar set.  She was so much more clever than I realized at the time.

When I was a senior in high school, the music/theater director led us in writing a play (or maybe it was an operetta).  The plot was about lonely miners and a bunch of women who are looking for husbands.  My part was that of a tomboy, a pal of the miners, who naturally falls in love with their leader.  He doesn't look at me as a bride, until I dress like the other women and show my feminine side.  

Of course there was a predictable happy ending with lots of brides and grooms.  

I'm not certain this was the only killer red dress.  I remember another one too, but apparently there was no picture taken.  Okay, that's my stroll down memory lane.  Besides making me more aware and appreciative of my mother's talent, I took my sewing machine in to be serviced.  I think I'll try a little sewing of my own.  I'll start small.

Spring in the Utah high desert

I went for a walk yesterday in the late afternoon.  That is the warmest part of the day here, but it felt good to me.  The picture is looking southeasterly, and I could see that rain was trying to fall in the distance, but probably not reaching the ground.  I loved the different blues of the sky and the reds of the mountains.  It is windy today which might mean a cool down for the weekend.  I like the heat, and always feel bad for those people who seem to have a comfort zone of less than 10 degrees.  You know the ones: too cool below 69, too hot above 78.  They probably have seven days all year when they are truly comfortable.

There are other wonderful shots at SkyWatch.

More inadequate appreciation of Mom

Here are more photos of the dresses I know were made by my mother.  At the time, I just accepted that she would put together something for me.  I suppose, as an ordinary, self-absorbed teenager, the fact that she was darn good at it flew right by me....whoosh.

The young man with me was a classmate and also part of the cast of Showboat.  The white dress was fabulous.

I decided to put a couple more dress pictures in, even though my eyes seem to be closed in the pictures.  Appreciate the dresses, not me.  This one had a collar of sequins.  I have again cropped out my date--not because he wasn't a nice guy, but my romantic history is not the point here.

Mom must have made this suit too, probably just to wear with the boots.  I sang "These Boots are Made for Walking" at some event.  I know I'd ham it up a lot more now than I did then.  Oh the confidence and wisdom of age--if we could have that and the youth and beauty at the same time.  Watch out.
This dress is another one I remember.  It was a pretty brocade with fake fur on the sleeves.
I really liked this dress because there are at least two pictures of me wearing it.  This was after our wedding and the birth of our son, so it must have been for a sibling's  special prom or something.  Oh my gosh, we are so young and skinny!

Is everyone tired of my memory lane yet?  I haven't found too many more pictures among grandma's slides showing more cool clothes, but I know there is a killer red dress somewhere.  Maybe I'm almost finished.

You have to smile.

I just spent a week with my son's family in South Carolina.  I got to go to a baseball practice with my 11-year-old grandson and a softball practice with my granddaughter.  The baseball practice was familiar.  I had sons who played, students who played, and I knew what to expect from boys that age.  It was baseball practice.

On the other hand, my granddaughter's softball practice was...entertaining.   First of all, she is barely 5--the youngest in the coach-pitch league that goes through 9-year olds.  Let me tell you, there are a lot of differences between 5 and 9 year old girls.  Second, she is a very girly girl.  She even runs delicately.  She gently and gracefully puts her toe on the bag, she sometimes spins around before picking up a ball from the ground, and when she comes in from the field she is often skipping.  One of her coaches made a circle on the field so she would remember where to stand.  

Her mother says that when she comes to bat, the audience smiles and "aaahs" because she is so small.  Once the coaches have managed to get her to stand in the right place and hold the bat correctly, there are no expectations.  She does, however, occasionally hit the ball.  It doesn't go very far, but enough that she can sometimes dance her way to first base. She says that makes her coach call her his secret weapon.  They are very sweet with her.  (You can click to see the picture better.)

I don't know if she will always like softball, but she does like to visit with others and play games so she's having fun.  That is really what matters now.

Underappreciated Mother

I hurried back through the many slide copies to find a few that I could quickly recognize as me.  I wanted to put them in a better order, but loading pictures so they turn out where I want them seems to be beyond my technical ability.

On the left is a dress for Pioneer Day, which is a very big deal in the place where I grew up.  I must have been involved in some special performance.

I don't know what dance the red dress was for,  but I did crop out the guy I was dating at the time.   I have several more shots with he and I together.

I think the orange suit was for something  like an interview for a beauty pageant or something.  I needed to look polished and respectable, but stylish.

The blue shift with ruffles and the lavender dress remain a mystery in my memory.  I have a corsage in one, so it must have been a dance.  But, my hair was up in the other so it was also obviously for something I thought important.  Those shapeless dresses were cool in the mid-sixties.

This very young me was for my first big dance.  The high school held a "post prom" the day after the real deal, especially for junior high students.  I was in 7th grade and had a date with a boy in my class.

This last shot is a real keeper although I don't remember why we took it.  It is my sisters and I with my grandmother, who passed away when she was far too young.  As near as I can figure, I was about 18 (which would make my sisters 16 and 14--give or take a year).  

I am pretty sure than my mom made most of these clothes.  I'll have to show them to her and see how many she remembers--probably more than I do.

I do know that I took her for granted.  I don't now.

Trip down memory lane.

I've been enjoying a stroll down memory lane.  One of my sisters took all my mother and grandmother's slides and scanned them, then put them on a flash drive.  It took her days, because there were lots of slides!  The thing is, they are not in any particular order.  So there will be a picture of us when we were small, then pictures of our children, then scenes from high school plays and assemblies, and so on.  I have realized two important things:  I was way cuter than I thought I was at the time, and my mother managed to make me some fabulous dresses that I had completely forgotten.  

I have heard others say how uncomfortable they were with themselves during the teenage years, then looking back realized that they had it all.  I don't remember thinking I was good-looking.  I just remember worrying about my hair, my freckles, the small scar on my face from an auto accident, yada yada.  And the only dress I remember purchasing was for my Junior Prom.  Maybe there were more, but my mother was a talented seamstress with limited means, so I think she made most of them.

I also found this picture of the method I used for getting my naturally curly hair to lay as smooth and controlled as possible.  It took FOREVER to dry because the cans had no ventilation and the hair was long.  But if I took the cans out too soon, I'd frizz for sure.  My dad used to tease me about getting radio signals from across the country.

This is me and my oldest son.  I must have been about 22 years old.  I actually remember this outfit.  Notice the smooth hair.

Maybe in a few days I'll post pictures of some of the fabulous outfits I had for various occasions.  In high school, I was often in plays, operettas, traveling assemblies, and other activities that required special clothing.  I have realized that I did not adequately appreciate my mother's talent.  

Just tell me if I get too carried away  and annoying with this reminiscence.  I'm having lots of fun remembering.

Good Customer Service

Someday soon I'm going to write about politics again.  When things begin to annoy me too much, it's either a controlled vent or blow out.  We're getting there so this is just fair warning.

Right now, I'm thinking about customer service--the good, the bad, and the non-existent.  I have had the occasion several times lately to request information or service from several on-line companies.  I love being able to e-mail a company at 10:00 p.m. in my pajamas if that's what I need to do.

First, I ordered a birthday gift for my 5-year-old granddaughter from Fat Brain Toys.  I forgot, until after the order was placed, that I had an online discount.  I e-mailed them and they applied it to my order.  Sweet!

Next, I had trouble with my Roomba battery, but corresponding with iRobot is difficult.  They will respond with a strange-looking message and instructions to write "only" between these two lines asking for detailed numbers and codes.  You might get a follow-up response,  but mine just told me what I already knew.  No help was offered, but I can buy a new battery.

I have occasionally ordered on-line from Avon.  This time part of my order consisted of some eye pencils.  Just a day or two after I placed the order, I got an advertisement offering them for half of what I paid.  I e-mailed Avon to see if they could give me a credit because I hadn't even received my order.  No deal; they do not offer sale prices on things already ordered.  That bothered me, because nearly all retail stores will honor a sale price on something purchased just a few days before.  Avon gets a demerit or two.

This morning I was reading on my Kindle and it froze.  I couldn't change the page, go to the home screen, and even turning off the switch did nothing to the display.  I logged on to Amazon and went to the Kindle section.  There was the coolest thing.  I put in my phone number and within 10 seconds my phone rang.  Within 20 more seconds, I was talking to a live human who spoke lovely English.  He told me how to find the reset, what to do, and stayed with me until it was working again.  Amazon gets bonus points!

It seems logical to me that businesses would want to keep customers happy, but there sure is a difference in the way they think it should be done.

Old Typist

I admit it, I'm a baby boomer.  I learned to type on a--wait for it--typewriter!  It was the kind where you had to use your left hand to move the carriage to a new line.  Our teacher kept the room frosty cold (crisp, he called it), and corrections had to be made with a type eraser--the kind with a little brush on the end.  Many years later I had a bunch of those erasers and the students thought they were so clever, though obviously they knew nothing about their original use with typewriters.

When I went to work in the office of The School of Arts and Letters at the college, I was really in fat city.  They had an IBM Correcting Selectric typewriter.  I got good enough that I didn't even watch.  It was like my hands could tell when I had made a mistake and they automatically backed up and corrected it.  Cool.

It wasn't until I had started teaching that I got to know computers.  Slowly and gently I changed from "typing" to "keyboarding."  Thankfully, the keys were still Qwerty, so I didn't have to relearn everything.  I had to discard the key that allowed me to go back, lift off, and type over, but much was the same.  

But, for whatever reason, some quirks have stuck with me.  I cannot explain why I want to spell about with an extra a--aboaut.  I do it almost every time.  I also tend to put a k in front of p.  I just did it when I typed spell--skpell.  I often change the order of letters in words, especially "the," and I'm forever exchanging one small word for another.  I just typed "work" instead of "word."  

Unfortunately, my hands don't always recognize my mistakes and if I don't proofread carefully my writing might be quite confusing.  

Thankfully, word processing programs make corrections easy to do.  Otherwise, I'd be covered in eraser dust all the time.

Silver linings around black clouds

It is too bad, but nothing seems to bring families together like a funeral.  Weddings are in second place, but don't have the same power to bring people home.

Yesterday was the funeral for my mother's older sister.  This lovely, very intelligent, talented lady had suffered for a number of years and knew she was not ever going to regain good health.  That did not make her passing much easier for those who cared about her except for their belief that she was happy and with her husband, who had died a number of years ago.

The silver lining was the chance to see family members I hadn't seen for many years.   We talked about how it was too bad that it took a death to get people in the same place, but we also laughed and shared and remembered.  Everyone promised to stay in touch.  I hope we will before anyone else we care about passes away.

Basketball made personal

Sometimes my family gets a little irritated when I mention them, but I think this will be okay. One of my brothers has two daughters (he has three sons too, but we're not interested in them at the moment).  My brother has always loved sports and has maintained that in order for his children to learn to do things the right way, he was going to be involved.  He coached his daughters and their friends on various basketball teams from the time they were in elementary school.  They loved it and so did he.

Now, they are attending a small, private college.  This college prides itself on its academics.  They 'just happen' to have basketball teams.  They make no allowances for the athletes, give no special treatment.  This week they are playing in the NAIA National Tournament in Tennessee, and they just won their first game against a team that beat them in the first round last year.

When I checked the college's website for information about the game, this was their picture.  It's the oldest niece, a senior graduating with a bachelors degree and an RN.  This tough but very feminine young woman is a heck of a player.  The younger sister is also talented and will likely shine even more in the next year.  This year it was especially nice because their dad was asked to help as a volunteer coaching assistant.  Naturally, he accepted (he was to all the games anyway), and I when I get to a game, I can see his influence.

 Now they get to play last year's defending champion, but don't count them out just yet.

Congratulations ladies, you've had a terrific year.