Two On One

Sometimes a guy doesn't know what to do when there are two women he fancies. One chap, none too brilliant, decided that the best solution was to play both of them at once to give him time to make up his mind.  It's  a bit like trying to burn both ends of a candle. Eventually, someone is going to be burned and most of the time, it's the one holding it. Since it happened many years ago, I can tell the story about the young man who simply couldn't decide which of his two girlfriends would make the best wife.  He liked them both for each had unique qualities he found attractive and that balanced to give them equal weight in his opinion.  The ladies in question lived a distance apart and he felt that it would be safe in playing them both until he could decide which one he would ask to marry him. What he found out was that the job of courting two was not only time consuming, but there was also a lot of energy put into trying to keep each from learning about the other. As in most relationships, sharing does not work, therefore, he couldn't expect them to understand his dilemma. That would make "understanding" stretch just a little too far. He didn't want them to find out about his game because he knew he'd be left alone and dangling if they learned about what he was doing. But this fellow opted to try it at any rate. What he didn't know, was that one of the women was onto his game and had determined to teach him a lesson. Doing her research, she found out the bachelor's fondest activities, his favorite foods and how he liked his women to be. Let's call her Smartee. Smartee did her homework. She did her level best to be better in  every way than her rival, and thus capture the guy - not that she wanted to keep him. She knew that disloyal men are born and never truly change. Marriage to that sort was out. She spent money on her appearance since that's what most men list as their number one requirement. She pretended to adore all of his activities and accompany him showing her support in a big way. She cooked his favorite foods and dressed in what he liked to see. She forgave him if he were late or uncouth or thoughtless. It was work. In the meantime, her floundering rival was slowly fading into the background. Then the day came when she knew the proposal was going to happen. He had sent roses and made a date for a dinner at an expensive restaurant. It was imminent. She felt now would be the  time to drop the bomb and teach him the lesson he would never forget. They arrived and were given the best table and the gentleman ordered the finest menu items. Over dessert, he reached across and took her hand and said, " I have to admit that I have decided to marry somone else. This is good-bye." Smartee, after paying all the bills she had incurred and feeling somewhat deflated, learned much later that the man's reasons for choosing the other girl, were that her brothers were hunters in a big way and it being his first love, he chose the woman's family oveer her lack of feminine virtues. Smartee was the one who learned the biggest lesson. But as it turned out, years later, she was correct. The hunter's marriage failed.  Once a two-timer, always a two-timer. And in the end, "hunting" would become yet another of life's little ironies.

Male Manners

Most men think that just "being there" is enough. Oh my, no, chaps. It's how you're "there" that counts with the ladies. We don't expect our dates to throw down their hoodies in a mud puddle for us to walk on, but we do expect a little effort at being a gentleman. There are men who somehow get away with very ungentlemanly behaviours and wonder why they can't attract the best of women. Good women can't abide bad men. If a lady accepts less than fair manners in a  man, she must be desperate. Remember people, there are worse things than being alone. Men and women deserve to be treated fairly and rudeness is just not acceptable. First, cleanliness is key. Everyone is offended by those whose body odor is detectable before they arrive.  Shower! And you don't need that high powered after shave guys, plain old soap and water will do.  When you arrive for a date, leave the ball cap at home. I shudder for pretty ladies who have to sit across from Mr. Grubby in his cap, chowing down. Why do men do this? Some believe it's okay because it supports their favorite team. The "team" is very unlikely to pass by to appreciate it. The I-am-bald-therefore-it's-okay-if-I wear-a-cap self-pity doesn't work either. If you don't have a lot of hair, never mind, most women could care less if you're bald or not. They see the you that is you. But make the "you" something appealing. When you eat, try not to emulate the animal that lives in a sty. Chew with your mouth closed and don't speak until it's empty. Never, never trim your fingernails at the table. I once knew a guy who did this and secretly ruined every meal I had with him. It wasn't about the flying flotsam left on my floor, but about having to watch this bad habit. And no toothpicks, puleese. Do that stuff in the washroom if you must, not at the table even if you own a sterling silver one. Yes, it's very nice when a gentleman opens a door for you and thank yous are in order ladies. Clothing doesn't have to be tailor-made but it must be clean even if very casual. Fingernails and hands, same way. Take a bit of pride in the shoe department also. Leave the clumpy runners in your foot locker, no matter how much you paid for them or how you wish to emulate your favorite sport hero. Runners are for running, not dating. It is verboten to flirt with other women  no matter how many times you excuse yourself by saying, "but I don't really mean it". Your date doesn't care. Women you date, want you to pay attention to them, not to ogle every passing female. After all, you asked them out, not the rest of the population. When you eat at a lady's house leave your ever-loving book behind. Do not sit and read while she is slaving over the hot stove. Close the book and get up and offer encouragement, if not help. And never begin eating until everyone is seated at the table, including the cook. That is standard, but some men obviously have been indulged by their mothers or formers and start forking immediately. One of the rudest moves to add to the list, is when a guy says he is going to come over and then calls to delay repeatedly, and finally doesn't turn up at all. That's the time for the lady to say "don't come at all - ever".  But that's another topic for another day. In the meantime, fellows, if you treat your lady with respect, she'll love you all the more and you'll be the winner. It's easy to do and you might end up respecting yourself a little more, too.

Sneaky Peeks

Ads are a way of modern life but some of them are just annoying. They are sneaky. When I am browsing around on the 'net, I find something that intrigues me and I click on it. What happens? An ad. Without any warning, I am "treated" to at least 60 seconds of a truck or car ad in which I have no interest at all, or perhaps some kind of advert for a couple of media guy announcers who spend their time chopping events apart, sounding very clever not to mention flaunting their expensive ties and shirts. It's not that I mind an ad or two if well done. What bothers me is that I have it crammed down my viewing throat so many times I can repeat every silly word in my sleep! I want to say, hey guys, I got it the first time, stop with the over-and-over-again routine. The clip that you hoped to whiz through and get on with other vital matters, has taken up more time than you have patience. I mean, how many trucks or fancy cars is a person going to buy after they suffer through another guts and glory line? All I wanted is the few seconds of Hollywood gossip or helpful hints, not a bunch of fiction about cars, yogurt bars and media programs. And then there are the ads that you find in a DVD you borrowed from the library. You snap open the cover of the acquired movie and with hot popcorn and bubbling cola all ready to go, slide it into the player and wait for the multi contributors and then the final musical title before the film you have long awaited viewing comes on in all of its glory. But what appears? An ad for another movie in which you have no interest at all and never shall. But wait, you can forgive that minor offence since your popcorn is cooling and your cola fizzing itself into sugar water and you will be so immersed in the movie you have long awaited seeing, who cares about one little ad.  What? Here comes another ad for another movie you have no interest in. Grrrr. Hold on, you tell yourself. Take a sip of the cola that is now flavored water and grab a handful of cool popcorn and be patient. Your mother would be proud of you. Okay, it must be time for the real movie, the one you want. Alas, the butter on the popcorn is hard  and the once-cold drink is gone. Here comes another ad with loud sound and mega colour. Up you get and go into the kitchen for warm popcorn and another cola. When you return to your favorite chair in front of what will be your favorite movie, voila, there it is and part way through. You sink, resigned into your pillowed seat, munch and sip knowing that you will have to go back to the beginning later to check out how it began. You have lost your will. On with the show. Happens every time.

Old Friends

No one escapes old age. While we think that will never happen, one day you'll wake up and say Eureka! I am old. It's not that you will run out screaming the fact into the street or shout it from the highest mountain. No. You'll likely quietly arise after the discovery and have your morning coffee or tea and carry on as usual. But what does occur after the self-realization, is that you will  become somewhat more aware of all the precious things that may not be there for you in the approaching future. You may see your family and friends in a different way. You will look upon them as treasures and call them or invite them over or take up visiting them more frequently while you can still manage the traffic. How  you present yourself may become an issue or the way you do your regular routines that may need adjusting.  All regard their aging in different ways. Some leap into it with gusto and determine to make every day count. Others may sink into depression over the natural process. Yet others will decide to fight it off even though they know it's a losing battle in many ways. Some have simply entered into the fray and have  already taken on the patina. They dress accordingly: make changes to their activities, wear clumpy comfy shoes, disregard  any kind of appearance enhancement such as make-up or hair styling, dress in gear that bespeaks old age and generally march into the whole thing with grim resignation. Others decided to fight against it, ignoring all aspects of aging and do just the opposite. They may take up social mixing, aqua flapping, yoga, quilt stitching or knitting. Some love dancing and find a place that still has bands or hoedowns and whirl gently about the dance floor with like partners.  Others may simply enjoy quiet times with their computers, art easels, work shops or sewing machines. It's a choice. But let's hope no one moans and groans to all and sundry about their miseries, their aches and pains, operations or illnesses to the point of seeing people dart away when you approach. Listening to a repeated account of every detail these unfortunates relate over and over can become excruciating unless it is a mutual exchange. And lots of elders do love to go on about their discomforts whatever they may be. I suppose it's all part of the healing process to share the complaints with someone else. I enjoy the people who talk about what they are doing not necessarily about what they did. My mother-in-law insisted that one "of an age" should not speak of the past. She was an active person who volunteered faithfully and got up games evenings that everyone invited to, groaned about beforehand, but who thoroughly enjoyed the fun of simply being silly over cards or little objects on a game board. Some bury themselves in groups where they intellectualize or debate over books they have read or travels they have done or work they have experienced.  And there are the folks who prefer a solitary existence to read or write about what they have lived or wished to. They do their family histories, journals, novels and letters. They enjy contemplating all sorts of issues and events and deal with them privately in their writings. All of what one choses to do in the end is valid. It's all "finishing touches". Being retired and aging with time that is all yours to plan, the mix is perfect. You may spend as much time on your chosen projects as you wish or even if there are no projects, the time is yours to use as you please.  It's time to give up the regrets and savour your times. While old friends and relatives may gradually disappear one by one,  you are there, to take  joy in the memories you have of them. If you can't  go visit your living pals, you still have e mail and telephones. However you choose to do it, even though perhaps not perfect, it's yours and you can do with it as you please. 

Screen Plays

Summer time and out come the bees - and wasps. Unfortunately, some regard these insects as bad and dangerous, and they can be. Many  who are not thinking about our world, hang out insect killing devices either store-bought or hand-made. I am very allergic to wasp sting but I refuse to put out insect killers or use sprays. I find these offensive to the natural order of things. There are lots of ways of being a good earth creature (remember that we are but one kind of inhabitant and we do not have dominance with the right to kill unless for food sustenance and very seldom as defense)  and there are ways of living with natural others, not destroying them. Yes, we need to protect ourselves from dangers but I believe finding a way to do that while respecting the natural order is the way to go for the continuance of future generations of all living things, human and otherwise. Someone I can see from my back window persists in hanging out  home-made devices that kill not only wasps but good insects such as bees. She's proud of her daily catch and tells everyone how many she drowned that day. But each insect that she kills is prevented from doing what the earth needs it to do to help produce plants or perhaps to become food for another creature. We are all part of a natural cycle whether we want to ignore it or not. Unfortunately, this person is seldom, if ever, in this part of her garden where these and other devices are hung. The garden has flowering bushes and trees and she, herself, grows many potted florals. I am sorely tempted to tell her that all of the lovely colourful plants around her patio need bees, wasps and other flying insects in order to be pollinated and reproduce more enjoyable botanicals for her to look at.  Even mosquitoes help not only to pollinate, as all insects do, but they also provide food for water fowl who eat hoards of them in their "wriggler" stage and for flying birds. Wasps are helpers, also, even though, not being as hairy as bees, don't do as good a job of pollination. I do not want to get into the debate that one side says "we have to defend ourselves somehow". It is true that defense is part of survival but it is the method one uses that is key. Screening, either in tent form or other means, keeps unwelcome insects away. Some people use deterrents such as hanging paper sacks to look like bee hives, in trees and on patios. Wasps do eat bees but bees also gang up on wasps, too, and the fake hives do detour the wasps. I've seen it. What draws wasps is food. Food net tents are wonderful places to enjoy the outdoors and not be bitten or stung. Don't leave food out and about for insect to feel invited  to share with you. More and more, our pollinators are disappearing due to other forces such as pollutants, urban sprawl and deforestation. Let's not help the bee and wasp population die out. We need them for our plant life; it is what feeds us and cools us and makes our world beautiful. I planted scarlet runner beans on my deck and this year for the first time, I have had almost no beans. I see very few bees or wasps about either for the first time. Is it everyone killing insects or just a natural phenomenon? I don't know for certain, but I want to see more screen plays and fewer, if any, of those electric insect killers or the hanging bottles filled with bad liquids. I prefer living in and competing fairly with my fellow creatures in every way I can in a natural world.

Cat's Cradle

Cat's Cradle is a game in which you have a circle of string that is threaded amongst your fingers and is then manipulated to form various patterns, never becoming a tangle if done correctly. The ideal is to be able to do this using the same string while adding other fingers as well. The added player must know and follow the pattern however. Those who wish to enter may do so only when taught the complexities of the holder. The string remains intact as each person threads it between their fingers. It is a closed circle. While it seems a simple thing to do, it has its complications. Human relationships are something like Cat's Cradle. Some groups are the closed "piece of string" and while various patterns are made within, to provide variety, the string stays intact. Only those invited may enter. The manipulator sees that the simple bit of cord is controlled carefully and in a secretly complex way, thus controlling the game going while making it appear open and simple. The controller weaves the web to fascinate and generate  the effect of change, just enough to satisfy but not enough to become a true change. When another player enters the game, the object is to confound and confuse the new-comer and thus conquer. We have all experienced this phenomenon and have been caught in this sort of maze. It is difficult to break, as difficult as it is to break the string in Cat's Cradle. I know of people who pocket their bit of cord, trotting it out at will enough to charm and mesmerize but not enough to allow their secret to be known. For years I was victim of such a joker. He was a delightful chap and had worked up a mystery game wherein, he showed you a deck of cards and told you to choose one and show it to him. He said that while only he and I could see it, The Wizard knew the card. When you protested, he said he would call the Wizard who would say the right card. He called and in a few moments, handed the phone over and the Wizard told you the correct card you held in your hand. I was always fascinated because he gave the called Wizard no hints, in fact, there was no conversation.The Wizard never failed. Finally, Ted, that was his name, confessed his trick. He had a few people who were his Wizards and when he called them and asked for The Wizard, they knew what the call was about and began to name the card suits. When the right one was named, Ted cleared his throat and then The Wizard began to say the numbers, finally learning which it was when Ted stopped him by asking the Wizard to speak to his guest and tell what the card was. I should have guessed what he was up to but somehow did not. I was very young at the time. Ted, the trickster, now gone on to play his tricks in another space I presume, never told how the trick was done but his widow divulged the secret finally. The trick felt like true magic.  Cat's Cradle is a game of skill unlike a trick such as Ted's generous one, well worth the effort of playing. No Batteries Required.

Hit And Run

There are events in life that are like hit and run. You are the victim and they, the drivers who run over you and don't even glance back at what they have done. They use you and then immediately forget that you were ever there. This happens in the work place often. Privately, you give all you have to your project and it us simply taken for granted and used, and without even a thank you is turned into another person's reward. I think about the assembly line folk who put in their tiny contribution to something that requires many fingers and parts and hours and standards that have to be as close to perfect as they can be. People who do that job, take their pay and go home every week and their only true reward is to know that they have given it everything they could do to make it a success. I  think of doctors and dentists and mechanics and clerks, servers and maintenance workers who put effort into their products that are taken for granted. We expect the item to be perfect without a look back or a thank you other than a cursory word to the cash desk. The perfection in it is due to the many people who develop all the the materials, the tiny the bolts or the food growing or the myriad of selling items. We can't say thanks to them. We don't even know who put in the work or give a thought  to those who came up with the idea in the first place. We just pay the bill without thinking about who developed the nice machine that rolls the groceries along to the bar code reader or who cleans the stores shopping baskets at night or the floors we walk on in every office building. We expect perfection and if we don't get it, there is trouble. It is the same with human relationships. You can be a devoted spouse or employee or volunteer: there's a little thank you card and a cut glass bowl gift and it's all over. Out the door you go and it isn't just about the pay check reduction after retirement or a firing; it's the loss of all that you put into what you did every day for so many years. Hit and run is what it feels like. It's just the way things are and there is really nothing you can do about it. As the song goes, you pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again. Droning on about it for eons is just a waste of the time you could put into entering the next phase. Hasta la vista baby!

Punctuation Pests

I'm not a radical about punctuation but as everyone else, I do have some dislikes or pet peeves. While there are many people who do, as I, blog, which is about the only way an unknown can be "published" other than indulging in the costly vanity press, belong to the ordinary fussy writing set who insist on some grammatical standards, however meager.  The blog is free and free-wheeling when cranky folk will allow it since they somehow always think it is about them.  They forget that they and their foibles are mere catalysts for bigger and better ideas. When someone writes to me on a friendly basis, I favour the messages that avoid certain unnecessary or incorrect marks. I am sorry to report this, but again, I am only blogging which is as free-wheeling as a walk on a sandy beach.  The parenthesis is one set of marks I don't mind if they are used correctly. And no; they are not brackets. Brackets have corners and parentheses have curves and their uses are not the same.  The curvaceous marks are useful for explanation on a topic pre-mentioned. You may place them around numbers and a few other things, but they are not toys to insert endlessly. Use them with discretion.  The next peeve of mine  that is often seen, is the exclamation point (ecphoneme), and may I point out, if used too generously, can have annoying results. Certainly, it is handy to express high feelings, but there is no need for repetition of the little thing. To do so, only makes you feel better, not me. More than one, adds another notch of volume and I don't like being yelled at, even in writing. Also, the exclamation point, while helping you to rid yourself of ire, only passes it on to me. No thanks for it. When I say these rather haughty things about others, I have to admit that I, too, commit punctuation sins. I have an on-going relationship with the dash, the short one. There should be a long one, the more correct chap, but it has fallen from favour, evidently, since it now goes down and under and not between words on my keyboard. I love the thing, short or long and use it in all sorts of grammatically illegal ways. If you want to get snooty about it, it should be used for appositive expressions but I tend to ignore all that and use it any way I wish. I know a couple of best-selling authors who spread it like peanut butter, all over their entire novels. And while they make the text cumbersome  to  read, you do eventually, become used to them and forge on as though they are mere pebbles in the path.  The short dash which is all we are left with, the long one long-gone on the modern keyboard, is what we are stuck with. It should be used only for dates, numbers and so on, but now it has become a multi-purpose companion to be used in the same way as its big brother, the long dash. But that is fodder for being accused of old-fashionedness. The advent of the quickie little devices or electronic  annoyances of "the social media" has encouraged the complete disappearance of decorum in punctuation and replaced it with  anachronisms and amputated language that is likely to stay. There are no marks or points to be had, other than the little @ and the ever-present "dot".  Spelling has reverted to its archaic niche and sentence structure is banished along with logarithmic tables. Moot is whether that is - good or bad. ????!!!!

Nine Lives

Cats are said to have nine lives. They are resilient creatures who stroll about commanding, not asking for subsistence, with their wholly independent air. They are quite amazing enviable survivors who seem to carry on in spite of all kinds of outside aberrations. Feral cats are a prime example. Their plight is not enviable but their ability to maintain an existence under the most difficult conditions is admirable in many ways. In travels, I have witnessed in all countries, slinking hoards of these beautiful animals living everywhere and anywhere as means of endurance. They go about in the world's ancient wonders constructed by brilliant engineers of their time, places of wood, marble and concrete, their elegant animal lines moving silently through pillars and arched domes, asking nothing, but receiving with grace, whatever sustenance opportunity comes their way. Few I have witnessed begged for food or shelter but warily accepted gifts while repaying nothing but their elegant presence. Rich tourists passing shrines of present-day  travels will stop amid the historical human wonders of architecture and watch with as much interest as they paid to see hundreds of years old buildings, a clutch of kittens whose wise mother gathers them there to attract attention. She gleans the tossed bits of food or small donations of money to those who maintain  the feline population, knowing that it is her only way of making a living. The animals of these sites, pay back by reducing the vermin population. In the great temples, the pyramids, the squares, the waterways, there are cats. Cats of all colours, shapes and sizes. Cats are always cats and unlike some other animals, stick with their own breed. There are cats on roofs, down alleys, up towers, in tunnels and in places you would not think to go. Cats reside, with permission, often reluctant, where you and I cannot, in the world's greatest and most historical venues. They live on less amicable pests who also inhabit places that people pay large amounts of cash merely to pass through. These are cats' homes and they earn them. There are those who see that cats remain living in our centuries-old icons of history. Other than catching rats and mice, cats add an artistic, living, moving ambience  to things long dead. They slide in and out of balustrades, down marble halls, into niches and through doorways adding their lovely lines and fierce independent aura to add contrast and enhance a warmth to places long dead. They are unwitting partners of their human overseers, ignoring their often unappreciative humans of their presence. Cats will go on long after we leave. Vive les chats!