The Servants

 One of my servants, Rob, needed to be followed around today. He's the kind of worker who needs to be watched every minute in spite of what I was told he could do. He's the kind of employee who persists in doing things his way and not mine. My grandma had a servant like that long ago before the Age Of Stamping Out Discrimination,  and followed the poor woman around making sure "in the nicest way" that what was done was to Gramma's liking. I have a lot of servants in every room, every single room including the laundry/storage room. By now, you know where this is heading.  Yes, they are all electric devices in some way and their boss is supposed to be me according to the instructions in the booklets that came with them but I have yet to "boss".  This morning, Rob, my robot vacuum cleaner, as usual didn't want to leave his dock and go do what the little visual on his top says he must do. We finally got that worked out when I urged him with my slipper toe, out from under his chair home port and sent him on his way. Of course, as do some people I know who clean before the cleaner comes, I had to lift up any little item in the place, that might irk him. These include piles of wires that most have under their computer desks in the spaghette tangle that lives there, little mats, floor vases and lamps and miscellaneos stools and chairs that he can't get under to do the job he was created for. His job is to vacuum, but when it comes to the dirty work like emptying out the dust bin, I have a wicked time trying locate it and then to extracate it. It looks very small to me. A "real" vaccuum cleaner, has quite an enormous dirt holder attached, but Rob's seems embarrassingly small. He also makes a lot of noise and even though I am told they know where to go, he goes where he jolly well wishes and sometimes lingers for an inordinate time in one spot for no apparent reason. He can climb carpets and knock things over with his bumping edges, and so far he has fought off and survived, piles of cords and other fabric things that get in his way, with a degree of determination and decorum. For this, I like him. But the ads say, I can go out and leave him to do the job on his own.  Not so. His love affair with the door stopper ,for example, would have him hanging out near that little object, and never getting the rest of his floors done. I follow him around the whole time now, watching what corners are being ignored and which are over-polished. When his work day is over, and he tells me in blue light, it's time to dock, he doesn't seem to know the way home. More encouraging happens with the slippered toe. Whew. Then my other servants: the air conditioners, the air filters, the sound speakers, the smart thises and thatses, the waterpiks and toothbrushes and manicure sets and cooking applicances and all the rest of the metal and plastic servants that I serve need attention. My servants need  new batteries, washing, dusting and maintaining. Servants are hard work. Time to use the coffee machine and whip up a nice one so that I can sit out on the deck and look at clouds and birds that are not servants and relax.  

Bird Lovers

 Have heard it said that when all the birds disappear, the world is in trouble. It certainly wouldn't be the same place without their songs, seeing their flight and wondering at their beauty and endurance. In our present hot weather, a bird bath is for them, a boon. It's place where birds can, and do, drink and cool off. The butterflies and bees as well as many other insects appreciate the water, too. The inspite of their tiny size, do much to the health of our environment in each of their unique ways. We need to find a way to live with them, all of them and like all living creatures, they need water. But bird bath water can also beome a problem. I have one on my sun deck and keeping it clean can be an effort. During the winter, I left it as is, but added water every day. The added stones around the edges began to take on an unpleasant smell and when I peered into the water one day, I saw a little white worm with a long tail. Ugh. The thing is called a Rat Tailed Maggot and these creatures can cause serious illnesses in birds. Naturally birds will eat worms and other insects but these are not what you want your bird friends to encounter. The solution is first to thoroughly clean your bird bath by scrubbing with some vingar water. Be careful where, if you have maggots in the water, to dump them in a place where they will never return and not near buildings please. Birds must not eat these worms, and since rarely, they can infect humans and other animals with a salmonella-like effect, do get rid of them.  You can go  online for further information. Once the bird bath is clean, you should daily fill with fresh water and add a capful of vinegar: one to one gallon of water. I use apple cider vinegar. It actually helps birds who don't mind vinegar a bit and it adds mineral to their diet. The secret is cleanliness. I tossed out all of the rocks I had in the bird bath because sometimes the crows and other larger birds will come with their food and dip it into the water. The bits of decaying food can  become lodged under added features such as decorations and rocks.  I learned much from reading about the life that your water generates and not all of it is good. Maggots are not safe. Those with ponds will have other matters to learn about keeping good ponds that are really just large bird baths. There is nothing like, for those of us who live in condo style homes, sitting on our decks beside our bird baths and listening to birds in a morning and seeing them soar and wheel  and flit in the sky. No matter how humble your deck or window seat or back yard, birds are a gift that is free and great entertainment to watch.

Imaging Help

 "I am part of all that I have met" said Tennyson, and that line goes on to say what might be surprising to those of us who use it, but the first part is so very true. We think we are "self-made" but we aren't wholly that. Our selves are constructed first, by our rearing, later, by our trials and errors and finally, by what we do with it all. Like a building, we make rooms to visit when dreaming, or scheming, or escaping. Oftentimes, we find ourselves in a situation that seems impossible to get through, and some of us, fix it by entering a dream, an image that we do, perhaps made up of a space we've been in, a scene we experienced or a feeling we recall. And while it might not "fix" anything, it takes us away to a place for awhile, where we get a break from something too bad to endure. If we don't have some sort of safety net, we fear that we will "crash". And that is why we have something called imagination. The imagination is a tool. Artists in whatever field they choose, use such powers in building their art. And while the artisitic construct of their mind, is drawn from their imagination, they are able to add more: to share with others their image, their special talent. It can be writing, dance, voice, painting, architecture, sculpture and on, but it's always something, even photography, that holds these unique designs. As in photography, that is about as real as any of the arts, the one who captures reality, makes us see beyond what we see, "into" what we see. That is art. It all begins with an image, and expands. Once touching base with a certain, unamed philosphy that was actually, a cult, I learned that the idea of art or science  is not completley original thought, but that the spirits of all the greats who have gone before us, somehow emit their inventions to those of us, who will reach out and grab them to use. And it is perfectly true, in a sense. It's why people go to learning institutions or sites to draw on the past and apply it to the present. It follows, how the Michelangelos, Mozarts, Shakespeares, Charlie Chaplins and Curies did the same with their past heros to use in their contributions that we, today, continue. So many people say that university  academics are useless, but no, their job is not How-Tos but to reveal to us what was that can become what is. That background exploration is never a waste of time. You can do it on your own. Whether you need to glean, for your own enlightenment or not, the value of imaging as a tool for whatever purpose you decide, there are many methods of teaching yourself to image. Looking, listening, tasting, touching are some.  As many experiences as you can find in all of your senses, makes you only a better mind. If you haven't explored this very useful imaging tool, it's time to do so. Imaging is a learned skill and it costs nothing. All it "costs" is for you to use your senses, and to use them all. Sitting in front of a screen, might be a start, but it misses out on some other crucial senses. Touching is something that many people avoid, but as simply as picking up a leaf or a stone or a twig will add to your sensual ability. Smelling is another ignored sense. Smell leaves not just flowers. Pick up some fresh herbs. Lift and smell fruits at the store. Sense their textures.  Allow your body to absorb to add to your dictionary of sense experiences in order to build images that will expand and enrich the tools you need to find a fuller life. 

Computer, Not A Dog

 Old people, and I'm one and can, therefore, use the O word, often get themselves a dog. Why? They are "lonely" and a dog offers them love and companionship. So I am told. When I am out in the morning, I see the dog people and none of them look happy, nor does the dog seem much interested in companionship. The four-legged furries,  go for the nicely mowed lawns and decorative stone corners. We won't talk about the other necessary things that dogs do and must be picked up by their Alphas.  All in all, a dog is not only a financial drain, it demands much more than it gives. And if you think dogs love you, think again. Animals want one thing and it isn't love. It's food. That is truth about why your dog "loves" you. It knows you are the A dog in its life and you feed it. Now, a much cheaper and more productive part of your life could be a computer. Those who have a dog and a computer know this. If you gave them a choice: dog or computer, their minds would say "computer" while their guilt would go for "dog". I love dogs and have had many of them in all kinds. After the initial grief of losing a friend, my dog, I had a great wave of relief. No more did I have to deal with fleas, dog washing, veterinarian costs, kennels that were no good or picking up the you-know-what every day all day. Computers on the other hand just sit there and give, give, give, and they are cheaper than dogs. Look it up. Lonely elders who do not have computers, and there are fewer and fewer of them, should definitely go out and get one and then shop for someone to sit by you to teach you the very few basics about using them. You don't learn how to use a computer going to a class. You need someone who will almost hold your hand, often from creating a disaster by putting the wrong finger on the wrong key. A computer banishes boredom and loneliness. Lots of us, the oldies, complain about family forgetting about us. We whine that we can't get out and about as once we did. Some rue their physical incapabilities. All that trouble can be removed if you have a computer. Well, a lot of it. I don't need to feed my computer but it does cost an initial outlay plus a monthly fee for the internet. Otherwise, you don't, for basic use,  need to spend anything but time over it. Costing it out, it's way less money than a dog.  You can mail, do business, shop, go travelling, find out about your aches and pains, snoop into other people's lives and doings, get the latest news, watch movies old and new, write your life story or blog like this, read books, listen to music, play games. The list goes on forever. Dogs don't do any of that and you don't have to take a computer out for a walk at six in the morning or eleven o'clock at night. Computers don't attract fleas, have the flu or need water and food. They never bark. That is the good news. Computers are machines and no amount of petting and cooing will sometimes fix the flubs on them. You can gnash teeth, stamp your foot, growl at them and they just sit there not caring. But there is way. Along with your new computer, find a nerd. They are the computer vets. Lonely and old? Forge on and choose, not canine, but computer. You'll never be lonely again. 

Pillow Talk

 Pillows and cushions used to be things that were basically ignored in a decorating scheme. They were add -ons and mainly there for comfort only, if at all. Your divan or couch or settee or sofa or chesterfield or one  of its cousins, sported perhaps a doily on the back or arm. These hand made little white bits are frowned on today and seldom spoken of, if possible. Ugh. Today, the furniture part, doesn't matter as much as what you put on it, over it or around it.  An array of cushions, some bizarrely festooned, like one that I have which sprouts long gold strands all over, or another smaller one, with sequins, can and do adorn most modern living rooms. Bedrooms have their own collections. The latters' cushions are not used, but before retiring, are tossed somewhere for the actual sleeping on the bed or beds. The cushions in sleeping places are about the onlycolor relief from the magazine inspired down quilt with its humble cotton cover that costs as much as a stove, with attendant and necessary lumpy surface all tucked into place. To "make" the bed takes considerable time, not in the tucking in, but  in replacing the cushions to their specific order and design. The time it takes to make a bed is far more than mere whipping the quilt back in place. I am a gypsy person who moves every few years, and a move means a new room colour or scheme, thus many of my cushions have, inside them, other covers. One buys pillow covers, and instead of removing the old ones, applies the new ones. The build-up only enhances, so I am told.  Dealing with cushions as a guest of another cushionista, sees one deciding on entry, and being waved to "do sit down", as to which cushion domain, you should choose. I happen to be of the untall personages, and need a seating spot that accommodates legs that, while wishing to reach the floor, depending on the furniture, often do not. I absolutely need a cushion at my back unless I want to look like a small child swinging its feet while chatting. Selecting which cushion I need for comfort, means speedy thought. I happen to know what some of the more elegant cushion covers cost, having seen the ads,  and it ranges from a wee fifteen to more than a hundred dollars a puff.  As I approach my prospective place to sit, I have to consider which cushion is not only acceptable for my back's needs but also to meet my host's decor sensitivities. One of the living rooms I visited, had gorgeous and expensive cushions lined up like soldiers on the couch and try as I might, none of them looked safe for the cushion's welfare.  I chose the one pillow, that appeared to be in my comfort zone both economically and physically. Innocently, I sat. The look on my host's face said "no, please, not that one" so I turned and opted for the antique chair in the corner, the one that had no room for a cushion. Comfort be darned. To suffer such a piece as well as balance a tea cup and plate full of veggies and dip, is challenging. I noticed that some of the other Book Club guests, simply grabbed the costly cushions and chucked them over the side. They had longer legs than mine.  

Cranks

When I was a very small child, I learned about cranks. These were metal things later on used as dinner gongs, that were used to start cars in those days - you know the boxy black ones that were tall and wide enough for whole families and went slow and safe? When my dad fit the metal crank into the front of the car and turned it fast, it was supposed to start the vehicle. It didn't always do that without a lot more "cranks". My dad didn't use foul language otherwise, but for some reason cranking brought out the bad in people. When my dad got into the car after a successful cranking, and it was now going, no one spoke for awhile. Seemed Dad who looked angry, needed a quiet time for a few minutes before returning to his normal self. This morning as I drove my new mobility scooter designed after the same appearance as such an old car that needed cranks and is called a Gatsby in fact,  I met some human cranks. It was a beautiful BC morning with a blue sky, fresh sea air and lovely gardens along the way on the streets of my town. I anticipated cheerfully, bidding a good morning to everyone I met along the sidewalk. At walking speed in my comfortable mode of travel at eight o'clock AM, I encountered a number of men, women, children and dogs. Only one, answered back my "good morning". Hmmm, I thought. They must be toungeless or just plain cranks, other than the dogs who are always happy to be out and about, none of them looked happy. Perhaps they had exposed themselves to the newscast before going out the door. That gives anyone a negative start to the day. Or perhaps they hadn't had their morning cuppa. Some of the kids heading to school stepped along like zombies, expressionless and with sour faces looking dead ahead. Oops,  must be a big test coming up and they aren't prepared for it or perhaps there was a family breakfast table issue.  One woman, who not only was large in every direction, she had a large heart. She chuckled and gave me a wide berth, moving onto the lawn beside the sidewalk, laughing heartily. "I thought you were a Harley coming along" she said, "and I thought I should give you plenty of room." We had a short chat, and off she went with a smile on her face. One of the teenagers I met, stomped past as though she had a personal grudge against all moving vehicles on sidewalks even though, legally, I am not permitted to ride on the street. The other older children I met, also got my "good morning" but not one of them responded. I assumed their parents and teachers had forewarned them about the dangers of greeting dangerous elderly strangers riding in mobility scooters on a sunny, fully public area with traffic going by. How we do protect our youngsters! Some of the people did nod, I must admit, but most of them pretended I, and my pretty cart, did not exist. It made me think of my dad who didn't like to crank because it made him a crank and he wasn't one. 

Bad Taste

 Bad taste is a substance that is unpallitable and unpleasant. It's also something that seems to have no boundaries in the entertainment world now. I suppose even Shakespeare appealed to certain of the masses who loved his double entendres while others gasped and giggled, but made no issue of it. The latter found it tickled their "naughty" and sometimes we like that. These days of nudie antics on cell phones and movies and videos that seem to be ignorant of what "good taste" is all about, the world is going far, far overboard on what good taste means. Fortunately, when you choose whatever it is you watch or read, you have some kind of warning, be it verbal or left to a kind of viewer instinctive guessing game. Almost always, when the first raunchy, distasteful element arises, you can turn it off in some way, a button or dial, often a mere tap on the screen. Human curiosity, being what it is: natural, sometimes does take a secret peek at what one shouldn't just for fun. Sometimes that can result in being a big mistake especially when it comes to porn and who can and cannot see it. But that's another whole avenue to avoid. Today, I happened on my computer to pick up on what looked like a fun cop show that takes place in a US area known for its social peculiarities. They aren't illegal, but they are out there. The series involves a female policeperson going about her job and her personal life choices, but one scene, however, has her squatting on a beach creating a puddle, if you know what I mean. I am trying to be "tasteful" here. Now, the reason for this is completely missing in the plot and there is no warning about seeing it until it happens. It calls for an ugh.  I do not want to see anyone doing what this actress was actually doing and I am still reeling over how she was talked into doing it for all to view. It has absolutely nothing to do with the plot. More and more we are finding this kind of mistake, happening and hey, I am not happy to see this kind of disgusting display. Does somebody in the media world think it's contemporary and cute? It isn't. There are often large sections cut from tape or film, or whatever it's called these days, but this kind of so -call acting just isn't for and doesn't belong to any story. It is the kind of pre-teen gross-out nonsense that, yes, is childish and unacceptable in our society.  Adults don't want to witness someone relieving their body of waste, thank you very much. It is called Bad Taste to make movies of this human process  for no reason other than attention getting. As to the scenes with fake love-making, so far, they look and are fake but what is the next step when bathroom action becomes a "take". Bad taste extends to other scenes and themes that are becoming more and more excruiating for viewers. And why? It appears to be a case of never mind how grossly tasteless the scene is, it gets attention, much as slipping on a banana peel and taking a prat fall is supposed to be funny. Sadly, most of us do laugh at it. Who is the audience that enjoys scenes that are tasteless and degrading for actors? The average person wants a film or video streaming, that is entertaining and comfortable and appealing and makes a person thoughtful or amused or curious or happy or even a bit sad, but disgusting scenes are just plain negative. They aren't art. Merely, they show how low media mavens stoop to capture only the watcher's shock while eschewing art.