Thursday, July 30, 2009

Count If There's Time

I don't know it to be a fact, but I've heard it from enough different sources to believe there must be some truth in it.

As a thunderstorm approaches, you can tell how far away the lightning is striking by counting.

Start counting off one second intervals the moment you see the lightning flash and continue counting until the rumble of thunder reaches your ears. Divide the total elapsed seconds by 7 to determine how many miles from you the lightning is striking.

Of course if there's not enough time to count, then the lightning is pretty darn close.

That's what happened last night as I was setting the table for dinner.

I picked up on the flash of lightning from the corner of my eye. At the exact same instant there was a crack like the jolly green giant had just broken a tree size bat on a foul ball. The lights flickered, the HVAC went out, and my feet left the floor. All within a millisecond.

The shock was all the more intense for being caught completely off guard. Usually there is the warning of distant rumbling as a thunderstorm approaches. Not so last night. Our back yard was ground zero for the very first lightning bolt.

I was thankful I wasn't serving soup or I would have ended up at the nearest burn center.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Camping with Cookies

Boy Scout camp has been on my mind this evening. I guess it's the hot and humid weather that brought summer camp to mind. It was always hot and humid the weeks I went to camp.

I've been remembering sleepless nights, mess hall meals served with tepid lemon-lime Tang, and latrines that smelled like - well, you know.

You can probably tell I wasn't a fan of summer scout camp.

After my first year, I learned to leave room in my foot locker for cookies, comic books, and bug repellent.

Which was how I came to enjoy a night of quality tent time while the other members of my troop were fending for themselves with nothing but compasses and a waterproof match tins.


We had been driven out to a remote corner of Camp Rodney just before dusk. Each scout had been given a pitifully small bag of supplies along with a map. The assignment was to use the compass to find our way to the pickup point by the following morning. Shelter was to come in the form of whatever could be constructed from the branches of fallen trees.

I was considering telling our Scout Master where he could stick his map when I recognized a familiar landmark. Realizing I knew how to find my way back to our tents, I decided to hold my tongue.

The scout leaders left with the transport vehicles and twenty scouts stood staring at each other before shrugging in resignation and setting off into the woods.

The twenty first scout, yours truly, lingered at the edge of the gravel road until the foolish twenty were out of sight. I then scurried down a hill and picked up a road that led to a road that led to another road and..... ended up at my tent just before nightfall.

There in my tent I spent the night reading comic books by flashlight and eating home made cookies while twenty other scouts battled insects and poison ivy.

I didn't get my compass merit badge that year, but I thought I should have received an award for the creative use of common sense.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Oz Weather

I was concerned that I was going to wake up this morning and find that I wasn't in Delaware anymore. The way storms were rolling through the area, I was thinking I had better brush up on the political hierarchy in the Land of Oz.

Following the most severe of yesterday's evening storms, the clouds thinned enough to allow a tainted green light to set everything aglow. I dared to venture outside and found a solid cloud mass still lingered directly above our house.

The heavy clouds of gray and purple boiled and twisted as though trying to tie themselves in a quarter mile knot. As I watched, the knot slipped loose and the clouds spun into a circle that elongated into a horn resembling the cornucopia centerpiece on a Thanksgiving table.

The birds that had started cautiously chirping with the cessation of the rain grew quiet again. The winds slowed to a breeze, then died to nothing.

I, and the world around me, waited in silence as the center of the threatening cloud bank widened like the maw of a horrific creature.

Losing my nerve, I ran back for the shelter of the house.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Moving Trash

I paid a visit to the local landfill today in order to get rid of some material from a project I've been working on.

I chose the tailgate unload option - meaning I drove to the highest point in Sussex county (which happens to be on top of a seven acre mountain of trash) and pushed my own trash out of the back of the truck.

Earth movers the size of a two bedroom house were operating all around me. I was hoping my truck wasn't going to be mistaken for scrap steel needing to be buried beneath tons of decomposing material.

I watched the drivers of these enormous vehicles and thought - you can get paid for that?

When I was kindergarten age, I used to pass afternoon hours practicing parking my pedal powered cars perfectly perpendicular to the wall of the house.

If I had known there was a career based on moving vehicles back and forth - back and forth - back and forth, I might well have chosen a different career path.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Eye Solution

My eye doctor recently suggested I use artificial tears to help alleviate a problem I've been having with dry, itchy eyes.

Sounded simple enough. Until I tried putting drops into my eyes.

There's something about holding a plastic bottle directly above my eyes that causes an automatic response. Specifically, my eyes squeeze shut.

I'm picturing my body's automatic systems being monitored by a micron sized man in a lab coat sitting in a revolving chair and keeping tabs on streams of my sensory input.

Said little man spends most of his day with his highly polished oxfords propped on his desk as he watches the world go by through my optical nerves.

Suddenly a weapons discharging system fills his computer screen. Alarm bells start ringing. Micron man lurches from his chair.

"Fingers - what the hell are you doing pulling that eyelid open? There's an attack vehicle approaching! Facial muscles - I need maximum twitch response. I need that eyelid closed. Do you read me? Get that eye CLOSED."

And then my artificial tears roll down my cheek.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Inspection Anxiety

What is about pulling into a vehicle inspection lane at the Department of Motor Vehicles that sends blood pressure and anxiety levels rocketing?

My car is getting up there in mileage. Knowing that inspection and registration renewal were coming up, I had taken the car to a mechanic a few weeks back in order to head off any unpleasant surprises at the inspection lanes.

Still, a lot can happen in a month so just before heading out I had Media Girl help me out with one last pre-trip inspection. Headlights? Check. Turn signals? Check. Horn? Check.

So why was I hyperventilating as I approached the number one position in the waiting line? What deficiency could the inspection reveal after my thorough preparation?

Then the car in front of me advanced and I was face to face with the DMV inspector who held my fate in his hands.

As the inspector studied my paperwork, I nonchalantly studied the fabric on the passenger seat and the dust on the dashboard. I considered whistling a jaunty tune to show how unconcerned I was, but nixed the idea just before pursing my lips.

The inspector called for me to turn on the right turn signal and I activated the windshield wipers instead. Cool demeanor gone, I pushed two different levers before I finally turned on the left turn signal. I was going down in flames.

Then it was on to the brake test. Here I considered complementing the inspector on how minimal the sweat stains on his shirt were for such a hot day. Again rational thought kicked in just in time to save me from embarrassment.

And then I was handed my certificate showing my vehicle had passed inspection.

I knew everything would be fine.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Nest With a View

I stopped at a car wash yesterday. One of those wash it yourself places with the high pressure spray gun and the soaping bubble brush.

At this particular car wash I noticed that the hoses for the washing tools were attached to a metal plate directly above the car. As I moved around the car, the plate in the ceiling revolved to keep the hoses from tangling.

I spotted a bird's nest on top of the metal plate and started wondering...

What went through the bird's mind the first time his house stated spinning? It had to be disconcerting to wake to a beautiful sunrise, only to watch the sun disappear - reappear - disappear.

I wondered if the bird realized it had acquired a prime piece of real estate. Once the babies move out, Mama bird can open a restaurant. It could be the aviary version of the space needle in Seattle, Washington.

Mama bird could have sparrows, finches, crows, and gulls all waiting in line for their chance to dine on freshly regurgitated worms while watching the world spin below them.

Although there is the issue of the water spray rising from below. Wait - I have it. Mama could advertise the dining nest as a cross between the Space Needle and Niagara Falls.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Napping on the Go

I received an e-mail with a link to an article about fifteen cool gadgets. I almost blew it off until I caught the words portable napping cube.

Whoa, that had my name written all over it - so of course I had to check it out. Darn if the thing didn't look incredible comfortable. Best of all, the thing condenses to the size of one of those canvas camping chairs and has a shoulder strap for easy transportation.

Being the professional napper that I am, this item is definitely on my Christmas wish list this year.

The write up on the napping cube talks about workplace napping but I can think of other applications.
Forty-five minute wait at the restaurant on a Saturday night? No problem, take a nap.
Have to be at the airport two hours before departure? No problem, take a nap.
Need to show up early for an open seating concert? No problem, take a nap.

Of course, the real beauty of napping is that you don't really need an excuse. You nap simply because you want to. And now napping can be done in total comfort - any time, any place.

The person who designed this thing is my hero!

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Cats and Dining

Our two tabby cats seem to consider themselves direct descendants of Mufasa, king of the lions. It is the hunting prowess of our cats that has brought me to this conclusion.

Beginning in late spring and continuing into early fall, our cats strive to outperform one another with the gifts they bring us.

Because we have a pet door that allows the cats to come and go as they please, our mornings frequently start with the discovery of partially devoured animals - rabbits, bats, mice, birds - in various locations of the house.

This morning I discovered that our cats have been paying attention to our dining habits and have learned that good etiquette means eating at the dining table.

Stumbling about in the early dawn light, I was preparing the table for the morning meal when I detected an oily substance on the table top. A discomforting suspicion gnawed at me. I flicked on some additional lighting and discovered the cats had used the table for their own dining.

Before others in the household awoke, I rushed for a bottle of antibacterial cleanser. A generous application of the cleanser quickly got rid of the red tinted smears and matted strands of fur.

With the table returned to pristine appearance, the potatoes sizzling on the stove lost the imagined smell of roasting game and I thought perhaps my stomach would settle enough to allow me to keep breakfast down - until I spotted a gelatinous eyeball nestled within the carpet strands near my foot.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Golf Carts and Buggies

Quite a few folks in our area keep a golf cart in their driveway. Not because our development is on the edge of a golf course, but because golf carts are the preferred method of travel between home, marina, and crabbing pier.

Many of the carts of been "pimped out" with banners, party lights, etc. An evening encounter with a golf cart decorated with a string of multicolored party lights in the shape of little umbrella drinks definitely leaves a lasting impression.

As does a horse drawn buggy equipped with a radical stereo system.

We used to live in an area of Pennsylvania with a large Amish population. The Amish folk travel mostly by horse and buggy. The buggies share the road with hundreds of cars and trucks.

In an effort to reduce accidents on the roadways, the State required the buggies to be equipped with four way flashers. Of course warning flashers require batteries, and it wasn't long before the Amish teens discovered that automotive batteries powered stereo systems as well.

It seems that regardless of the mode of transportation, humanity has a deep seated need to customize their rides.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Finger Talons

I was observing a woman struggling with the preparation of a cup of coffee yesterday. She seemed to be having difficulty holding the insulated cup. Thinking she might have arthritis or a similar affliction, I was trying to decide how to tactfully offer assistance.

Before I could put my foot in my mouth, I noticed the true reason for the woman's difficulty. Her fingernails were easily four inches long. The nails curved in such a way that the coffee cup might well have been punctured had the woman gripped too hard.

So I have to wonder.... how much inconvenience does a person have to experience before they decide it might just be time to trim their talons?

Because surely gripping a coffee cup was the least of the woman's problems. What happens if her eye itches? How does she hold a pen? How does she press the buttons on a cell phone? How does she eat a piece of fruit?

Perhaps most problematic of all... How does someone with four inch fingernails perform ...uhm... certain personal hygiene functions associated with bathroom visits?

Just thinking about that last one makes me cringe.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Of Weeds and Ants

While tending to my gardens I've noticed that in the areas where weeds are the most prevalent, there is always a thriving colony of ants.

I'm wondering about that relationship. Specifically which comes first, the ants or the weeds?

I suppose that tunneling ants may loosen the soil and make it easier for weeds to grow. On the other hand, the underside of the sprouts on a healthy stand of crabgrass manages to stay moist even in the hottest conditions. So maybe the ants are drawn to the moisture.

If I knew where the next weeds were going to sprout, I could study the relationship. But since crabgrass seems to change from microscopic fingers to thick jungle growth overnight, I suppose the answer to which comes first will remain as elusive as the chicken and the egg.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Working at Corn

Locally grown corn is now available at the produce stand down the street from us. Corn on the cob will now be part of dinner nearly every night until the season ends.

I guess you could say Motivated Mom and I are corn fanatics.

Tonight I started wondering just how corn became a summertime staple for so many families.

When you think about it, corn on the cob is not really user friendly. Corn needs to be husked, cleaned of silk, cooked, buttered, seasoned, and - for the fastidious- skewered with handles on either end. That's as much work as goes into a main dish. Afterward, there's still the barren cob that needs to be disposed of.

At picnics, corn on the cob constantly threatens to roll off the edge of paper plates. Only those with superb balancing skills dare to carry an ear of corn on a plate while simultaneously trying to keep iced tea from sloshing over the rim of a cup.

Eating an ear of corn at the dinner table violates nearly every rule of etiquette. Utensils are abandoned, elbows rest on the table top, faces are buttered, and used napkins build into paper mountains.

So what is it about corn that warrants all the work, exception, and attention?

I'll save the explanation for another post. In the mean time, cook yourself up a fresh ear of corn and enjoy the ecstasy.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Fans and Televisions

The past couple of days have brought more than the usual share of challenges. I suppose it's because of this that I've been thinking of quiet summer days as a child.

My thoughts took me back to a hot summer afternoon in the 1960's.

I remember lying on the parquet floor in the dining room. Directly in front of me a box fan miraculously converted muggy ninety degree air into a cooling breeze. Behind me, an iron released a hiss of steam. My mother stood at the ironing board with a basket of freshly laundered clothes nestled into the seat of a dining room chair.

In the adjoining living room, the television was tuned to an afternoon variety show hosted by Mike Douglas or Merv Griffin. I discovered that if I looked at the television through the spinning fan blades the pictures on the television progressed in jerky movements. The effect was very similar to flipping a stack of white papers through my fingers and watching the erratic progress of the stick figures I had drawn on the pages.

Such were the simple but important discoveries of a nine year old boy on a hot and humid day.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Checking the Peepers

I had my two year eye exam two years late today.

I made the appointment after realizing that my triceps and deltoids were gaining mass from holding books at arm's length in order to get the words to come into focus.

Since it had been four years since my last checkup, the eye doctor ran the full barrage of tests - which necessitated dilating my pupils.

After putting the drops in my eyes, the doctor informed me that my eyes would be very sensitive to light for a few hours and asked if I had brought sun glasses with me. It seemed to me that he should have asked that question BEFORE administering the medication that would cause my pupils to expand to the size of intergalactic worm holes.

Before I could point out the lapse in prioritization, I was ushered off to the waiting room where I would pass the time while my eyes went through their metamorphosis. The nurse left me with the warning that my vision would become blurry.

I don't know about you, but I pass the time in waiting rooms by reading. I made it through two dozen sentences before the words on the page melted into ink spots.

Next time I'll remember sun glasses AND an Ipod.

Friday, July 3, 2009

Freedom

This July 4th, let's all take time to appreciate the freedom we too often take for granted.

... And thank a serviceman or woman for their dedication to maintaining that freedom.

Happy Fourth of July

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Light bulb Life

At our house it's time to stock up on light bulbs.

There's a darkened bulb in the bathroom and another fried bulb in the dining room.

Which means that bulbs will soon be fizzling in every other room of the house.

I know this from past history.

All too many times I have taken the last seventy-five watt bulb from the storage cabinet with the thought that I'll soon need to purchase a new four pack. But before I even have the chance to make a note on the weekly shopping list, Motivated Mom inevitably calls out from another part of the house that a bulb has just blown near her.

Which leaves me looking at my inventory of 150 watt and 25 watt bulbs that never seem to get used and trying to decide if I should go for soft mood lighting or movie set brilliance.

It's almost guaranteed that by the time I pick up a new four pack, two more bulbs will have gone out. Counting the fixture with the temporary 25 watt bulb (I generally go for mood lighting as a quick fix) I'm back down to a single bulb in reserve.

And then this little story starts all over.

I'm determined to break the cycle this time. I'm going to stock up. Twenty bulbs should hold me for a while.