Radio, Radio

I love listening to the radio. I've always been a radio gal, I believe I've even mentioned this here before. I was definitely that kid with the transistor radio tucked under her pillow at night. Transistor radios were great, they were relatively small, they were meant to be portable; you could bop along listening to your little portable radio. It was a big deal to convince my parents to buy me this expensive item as a gift but I assured them I'd take good care of it and I'd USE IT. I was known for taking good care of my stuff so that wasn't a tough sell and since I was always commandeering the giant console stereo in the living room it was a safe bet that the little transistor radio I coveted would definitely get some serious use. By indulging me my parents would be able to once again watch TV since I would no longer need the giant living room console to tune into my favorite radio station (W-A-BEATLES-C!). So there it was, my very own radio with its crackly but comforting sound pumping through the little speaker. Bliss pure bliss.

The days of that radio are long, long gone. I've run the gamut of listening devices over the years. I never got onboard the iPod train (I don't like the little wheel thingy for one). I still listen to the radio. I no longer listen to commercial radio because, well, ick. Now I listen to Sirius/XM or Pandora.

This morning as I settled into my desk at work I reached for my "radio" and realized that I had come full circle. My phone these days is a Droid Razor, it's roughly the same size as an old transistor, yes it's much lighter and thinner but the other dimensions roughly measure up to an old-style transistor. As I hit the app for Sirius and watched it load I cradled my "radio" in my palm and jettisoned back in time; once again I was holding my precious box of music in my palm waiting to find out what the DJ would serve up.

I can't look at it now without seeing that first transistor radio and remembering my old bedroom with the Sears French Provencial canopy bedroom set and the weeping willow tree outside my window. I can see it as clear as day. The slippery blue satin bedding set neatly arranged on the bed and my transistor radio waiting for me on the nightstand propped on its flimsy silver easel stand. Those were good times but so are these I suppose. Certainly I'm not young anymore or innocent but that radio still holds a world of magic in it.

Whiskey and Smokes

A friend of mine has 3 young kids. I'm friends with her because in her youth she was a fun, rockin' chick, now she's a boring mom who blathers on relentlessly on Facebook about the various antics of her kids as well as posting random questions seeking advice from other moms just like HER. This week she posted that she had to bring the candy for the Easter egg hunt on Saturday to one of her kids' schools. She had been given specific instructions NOT to bring any candy made in a factory due to the risk of exposure to various potential allergens. REALLY? Someone pointed out warnings like that SPECIFICALLY meant Hershey candies. Huh, seems that more than just Hershey makes their candy in factories but whatever.

Candy is made in FACTORIES. Do they expect her to go somewhere that makes custom candies? That would be a tad expensive for a bunch of 5 year olds to smear all over their brand new outfits, no?

At the risk of garnering the ire of my friend's mommy squad I posted "Everyday there's another reason I'm glad I don't have kids so thanks <Friend> for yet another reason to be grateful I don't have kids. Gotta go get myself a Hershey bar now…wait, I don't have kids I can afford the expensive stuff!" Interestingly (so far) my snarky comment has been ignored as more and more helpful suggestions pour in to advice my pal how to solve her candy dilemma. Lucky me to be spared the wrath of the momsters.

Of course this led to a morning chat while work-bound with one of my MANY other childfree friends about these mommy things we have no use for. We noted, as we have many times in the past, that we don't remember food allergies when we were young. Peanuts were a mainstay for most of the kids I knew, we LIVED on PB&J sandwiches, we learned to make them early and enjoyed them often. PB&J was an awesome snack on saltine crackers while watching Mr. Ed on TV or while telling ghost stories at a sleepover with my cousins. We had lunch tables quite literally dripping with peanut butter & jelly throughout my grammar school years.

What happened? Where did all these damn food allergies come from?

My friend during our morning chat was the one who suggested the title of this post, "why not just bring whiskey and smokes?" It kinda makes sense, why NOT bring whiskey and smokes? I doubt if any of the little darlings are allergic to those two items and the whiskey might just kill off any potential allergens in it's path.

So kids, let's toss a few back and light up that Lucky Strike!

Supahstar!

I'm watching some AWFUL story of Jesus the Savior (or Messiah) on some cable channel. What I want to know is WHERE'S THE SINGING? How dare someone tell the story of Jesus without SINGING.

And while we're on this subject, why do some of the actors have bad British accents and others sound like pompous Americans? I just don't think Jesus and the Apostles sounded like this, call me crazy but it doesn't exactly seem historically accurate.

Filmmakers, take note, DO NOT TELL THE JESUS STORY WITHOUT SINGING!

And remember YOU are the salt of the earth…

Library books

There's a new commercial running for an eyeglass place and it plays on the "sexy librarian" theme. It's just a close-up of a sexy woman wearing glasses and she's scolding someone for having overdue library books. That's cute but is it relevant?

Look even I don't think it's relevant. Where I live there's a pretty damn robust eLibrary system and when your two weeks of borrowing is over the book just goes away; POOF, gone. No need to return the book or books, no overdue fees, it just goes POOF.

So how much longer will the fantasy of the sexy librarian even have an audience? Not because librarians will somehow no longer be sexy but because (like bank tellers) librarians will just no longer BE. At best they will no longer be seen and they sure as shit won't be scolding you for late books.

Ahhh another porn icon consumed by technology. And so it goes!

Is that about right?

I'm on antibiotics…again. I have this recurring sinus situation which is being looked into more closely but until such time I'm back on the evil meds. This is the 3^rd different antibiotic since March 2^nd. All of them have the same words of wisdom "take with food". Great but how much food is the right amount? The words of advice are there so that your stomach doesn't implode on itself from the hideous effects of the antibiotics and I get that but how much food should I eat. I ask this because I don't eat all that much at a meal. If hubby isn't home for dinner I'm happy to have ½ a grilled salmon wrap for dinner, or maybe cream cheese and tomato on a piece of toast. Is that enough to play nicely with the antibiotic?

I admit that I've been diligently taking PRObiotics through all of this and they seem to work better than any amount of food. They actually do more than give the antibiotic a cushy landing pad, they replenish what the antibiotic is mercilessly killing off…but still, how the hell much food am I supposed to be eating?

Pondering, pondering, pondering…

When I say so

I have this problem; I get great blog ideas as soon as I shut my computer down and head to bed. Seriously, as I walk up the stairs to bed a million blog ideas start to fling themselves into my brain. For some odd reason I actually think that I'll remember these awesome ideas and translate them into a blog post the next day when I'm sitting in front of my computer. I'm convinced of this each and every night…and yet I repeat the same pattern. "Blog post? Damn, I had that great idea last night, what was it again? Oh well…"

So here I am tonight. I'm bored, Idol SUCKS this season and that's about the best offering on TV right now. It's too early to go to bed (is it? Am I sure of that one?) but where oh where are those tasty little life bytes that I want to share with the very few people who bother to stop by my blog? Where have they gone? They aren't here with me so SOMEONE must have them…

Savings and Loan

When I was in 9^th grade we all had to take a personal finance class. It was taught by this ANCIENT woman and she was MEAN. We had to learn how to write a check and how to write a deposit slip for a savings account and a checking account and how to balance our checkbook. This awesome bit of instruction happened in 1972/1973 (oh yes it did). There was no such thing as direct deposit then; no ATM machines, if you needed cash you either had to withdraw money from your savings account with a withdrawal slip or you had to write a check for "cash"; no auto-bill pay; honest, none of these things existed back then. You had to engage in the full banking experience back then. Walk in, get your paperwork in order, wait in line, all that happy hoohaa.

Today I realized I no longer know how to bank.

Since 9^th grade I've certainly forgotten far more things than I'll ever remember but I never thought those pearls of wisdom from 9^th grade would beat it out of my brain and yet…gone. They are, mostly, GONE!

I still bank at the same building I've banked at for 30+ years. I say building not bank because the bank itself has changed hands and names a few times but I still go there. The main building is Mad Men kinda retro and doesn't look like anything has changed since probably 1963; it's also a tad depressing on the rare occasion when I am forced to wander inside. I used to know all the tellers and the bank manager (she was promoted to VP just before being let go several years ago under a management change, now she does wildlife rescue) now I have NO CLUE who those people are…and there's so FEW of them. On a Friday every teller window used to be manned and a line snaked around the lobby, now it's rare to see anyone ever in there, there's only one teller on duty most days and the person who mans the desk and deals with the "BIG BANK ISSUES" travels to several branches and is only there 1 or 2 days a week.

I had to deposit a fairly large check (a settlement from my mom's estate). My first issue was to actually FIND my checkbook so I could get a pre-printed deposit slip from the back of the checks. No easy task but with minimal cursing I found it and tore out a deposit slip. I stared blankly at said deposit slip for a full minute or more. What the hell was I supposed to write on this thing? I did my best to fill in the blanks then looked at the check to be deposited and realized I wasn't exactly sure what went on the back of the check. I started by congratulating myself for knowing that SOMETHING had to go on the back. I signed my name, then wrote "For Deposit Only" because I kinda remember that had some meaning to someone…and I wrote my account number there just for grins and giggles.

A quick trip to the drive-up window and I was DONE. I proudly drove away congratulating myself for not doing anything embarrassing relative to that transaction and then I realized I was actually relieved to be done with that STRESSFUL event in my life.

I can say that I do NOT miss that banking experience, I love my direct deposit and stopping at an ATM for cash, I love auto-bill pay and all those other things that mean not going to a bank. Oh so happy for progress.