tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294337542024-02-23T19:01:58.906-07:00Anhydrous WitAre you pondering what I'm pondering?Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.comBlogger1800125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-7743636525990037592021-08-06T21:34:00.001-06:002021-08-06T21:34:38.099-06:00This is why they're called the Olympic "Games".<p>I seldom watch sports. Even with the Olympics on, with a larger variety of events than ever appear normally on TV, and with the chance of seeing them only every four years, I still don't sit for hours in front of the TV. (I could, though, considering there's one broadcast network and three cable networks airing footage.) When I did have the TV on these past two weeks, I checked out what competitions were shown.</p><p>I say "competitions" because I can't refer to some of the Olympic events as "sports".</p><p>Beach volleyball is in the Olympics? Three-on-three basketball is a thing? I don't even know what <i>that one</i> is. Skateboarding is in the Olympics?! Surfing is in the Olympics? By this point, I barely can be surprised that BMX biking is in the Olympics.<br /></p>Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-20469123391782624582021-08-06T21:28:00.000-06:002021-08-06T21:28:27.894-06:00Ouch! That stings.<p> I try not to fret about having turned 50 this year. I figure that, if I don't make it a big deal, it doesn't hurt, and people won't try to make fun of me for it, if they know it doesn't bother me. (My oldest brother is an exception, but he's about to turn 60, so who's pointing fingers now?)</p><p>I faced a bigger issue the other day. At the grocery store, the cashier asked me, "Are you over 55 years old?"</p><p>I suppose she was asking, in case I earned a senior discount. I suppose that, with half of my face covered by a mask, and with my hair either having fallen out or turned gray, she couldn't see how youthful and vibrant I otherwise appear.</p><p>Still, I'm trying to get used to being 50. Please don't add years to me yet!<br /></p>Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-58442817591690614812021-08-01T12:41:00.000-06:002021-08-01T12:41:19.866-06:00Special Landscaper Edition<p> My employer receives a lot of trade magazines and catalogs in the mail (even after telling the publishers that we want the electronic, not print, versions). They all get recycled, but I do flip through a few of them before putting them in the recycling bin.</p><p>A bulb catalog arrived this week. I discovered that we could order 10,000 bulbs in a batch -- at 2/3 the per-bulb price of a batch of 100. Sure, the total price sounds expensive, but that's only $0.23 to $0.31 per bulb. That sounds good, doesn't it?</p><p>Now, where am I going to plant 10,000 daffodils?<br /></p>Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-79442710596265007662020-10-17T09:38:00.000-06:002020-10-17T09:38:11.823-06:00Stupid Question of the Universe #8<p> The plural of "index" is "indices". Does it follow that you can have one bottle of Windex or two bottles of Windices?<br /></p>Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-26798524084818991002020-09-13T17:27:00.000-06:002020-09-13T17:27:06.025-06:00Maybe It's My Car That's Haunted<p> DAY 2: When I arrived home from work, the day after the smoke detector incident, I pushed the button of my garage door opener and turned my car into the driveway. At the same time, I heard someone's burglar alarm. "That's odd," I thought. "It can't be mine. Mine wouldn't go off immediately when the door opened." Plus, it didn't sound as if it was emitting from my house. It sounded more like it came from one of the houses across the street, or at least from that direction. Closing the garage door muffled the sound, so I knew it wasn't my own alarm.</p><p>About half an hour later, I left to refuel my car and buy groceries at the warehouse club. Again, at the same time I pushed the button to open the garage door, I heard a burglar alarm. Now, it's getting creepy. The effects of my "Weather Wizardry" on various forms of technology seem to grow with every incident. I seriously pondered if it were possible that my garage door opener's frequency suddenly, after who-knows-how-many years, started setting off burglar alarms around the neighborhood.</p><p>My other, across-the-street neighbor was walking over, and he confirmed the alarm was from his neighbor's house, and he was checking because his neighbor was out of town. He also said his wife told him the alarm "has been doing that all day". I was mildly comforted, but I wanted confirmation. Would the alarm go off again when I returned home?</p><p>Thankfully, as I turned onto my street upon my return and pushed the garage door button again, the neighbor's burglar alarm did <i>not</i> go off. Silence reigned in the neighborhood. I was vindicated. Or, at least, there was a datum that did not support the hypothesis that it was my fault.</p><p>DAY 3: Every Friday, I collect the recyclables from my office and take them home to put in my own recycling container. (Santa Fe, NM provides similar containers for residential customers in single-family housing, but not for businesses nor multi-family dwellings. Plus, even though it's Santa Fe, none of my coworkers cares enough about recycling.) I always leave a box in the office, to collect recyclables during the week, and I have spare boxes in the car, for when I gather everything from the trash cans. When I went out to my car for a box, and I pushed the button on my key fob to unlock the car doors, the wiper on the rear window operated twice. This was spooky, since the only controls (that I know of) for that wiper (or for the windshield ones, for that matter) are on the car's dashboard, and I hadn't even reached the car yet.</p><p>Who needs to wait for Halloween? Just hand me something with a battery, and stand back!<br /></p>Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-44150680138857469892020-09-10T07:29:00.015-06:002020-09-10T07:33:32.960-06:00Haunted?<p>I dreamt last night that I was in a house (not mine), going to every smoke detector and carbon monoxide detector, trying to figure out which one was beeping and needing a new battery. It was fruitlessly frustrating. I gave up and decided to take a shower. Unfortunately, the shower was already running (very hot, as the closed, bathroom door felt warm, and there was steam seeping out around it). I walked into the bedroom and saw the (late) actor Paul Walker doing something (folding laundry, painting, something). He said he was letting the shower warm up. I left the room, unsure of how to while away the time until he was done in the shower. That's when Paul had his "aha! moment". "Wait. I'm not running the shower, and if <i>Cap'n</i> isn't running the shower, and <i>I</i>'m not running the shower, who is?" He went into the bathroom and discovered the body of his father, who had committed suicide.</p><p>"Well, isn't <i>that</i> a pleasant dream!" I thought, and I woke myself up. Then, I heard a beep. In real life. Argh! I went into the hallway, stood directly in front of the carbon monoxide detector, and waited for the beep. Aha! I took it into the bedroom, turned on a light in the bathroom (so as not to blind myself with direct light), and... heard a beep from the hallway. Not from the device in my hands. Razzlefrazzlesnarfin'...</p><p>The one thing that went right in all this is that I'm tall enough to reach the smoke detector on the ceiling, so I didn't have to hunt for a stepstool in the dark. I took down the detector and walked to my bedroom. The detector I was holding beeped. I removed the battery and left it and the detector on the bathroom counter, as a reminder to replace the battery in the morning. (Never fear, loyal readers! There remained a hard-wired smoke detector in place, should anything worse happen overnight.)</p><p>I decided that, since I was already up, I'd go to the bathroom. The detector beeped. Yes, it beeped <i>without the battery in it</i>. As I washed my hands, the detector beeped again. "All right, you! You're going down to the kitchen tonight. You can beep all night long, and I won't be able to hear you from there." Naturally, it didn't make a sound as I took it downstairs. I left it (and the battery) on the kitchen table anyway. (I did insert a new battery, test it, and carry the detector back upstairs, after breakfast this morning.) It took me more than a half hour (based on the grandfather clock) to fall back asleep.<br /></p><p>In the name of all that is good, why is it that the batteries in smoke detectors never run down while I'm awake and able to do something about them? And how did this one continue to beep <i>after the battery had been removed</i>?<br /></p>Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-91004055044099854402020-05-25T14:01:00.001-06:002020-05-25T14:03:21.676-06:00Middle-Aged CurmudgeonI've commented before that computers, the internet, and other forms of technology and I have a "cold war" of sorts. We view each other with distrust & suspicion. Today's update is: same ol' same ol'.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://anhydrouswit.blogspot.com/2020/05/size-matters.html">The other day</a>, I mentioned that I tore the only pair of jeans that still fits me. With clothing stores closed or restricted, I finally gave in and browsed online. I thought I found stores that had what I need. ("I think so, Brain, but where are we going to find rubber pants our size?" --<a href="https://pinkyandthebrain.fandom.com/wiki/Are_You_Pondering_What_I%27m_Pondering%3F">Pinky</a>) Unfortunately, they didn't. These are websites, after all, a form of technology that hates me.<br />
<br />
I ordered two pairs of jeans from one website and some underwear from another. In answer to your question: no, of course I couldn't get everything from one place. One had jeans but not underwear in my size, and the other had underwear but not jeans in my size. I probably could have ordered elsewhere, but both would have been more expensive.<br />
<br />
Moments ago, I got an e-mail from one of the stores that one of the two pairs of jeans I ordered was cancelled. Already? You see, this is why I hate the internet. Even when I give it a chance, it turns on me. No chance of detente here.<br />
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I guess I'll try the manufacturer's website next. The price to order jeans directly from them is only a little more than the store that let me down. Mind you, it was two days ago that I browsed their site, so either the price or availability probably has changed -- or both.Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-4187444833907092022020-05-25T06:39:00.002-06:002020-05-25T06:39:30.371-06:00More Buying, Less ShoppingI have been so lazy, this note to blog about my second grocery-shopping foray has been on my keyboard for weeks. I don't know why, since there isn't much to say.<br />
<br />
I had most of the same items on my list as before. (This one-per-customer rule, even if it's only in my head, is inconvenient.) This time, though, I found most of them -- even the yogurt, hot dogs, and boxed macaroni & cheese. Granted, there wasn't much of any of them on the shelves, but at least they were there. Plus, there was toilet paper! I didn't need any, but I picked up a package for visitors to use in the powder room. I hope this one is more comfortable for them, although I still prefer the cheapest brand.<br />
<br />
Ooh! I just remembered something to add to my list for the next time. Now, where's that paper?Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-23449812377605944012020-05-23T17:19:00.000-06:002020-05-23T17:19:41.851-06:00Seeing ThingsAlong with my actual waist size, there are a couple of other reasons I couldn't believe my eyes this weekend. And it's only Saturday afternoon.<br />
<br />
First, I saw four, teenage boys on bikes in my neighborhood. I see lots of people out exercising, walking dogs, or playing: parents, elderly, children -- but never teenagers. I started thinking that maybe there aren't any in my neighborhood. No teenager ever offered to mow my mom's lawn or shovel her sidewalks before I moved in with her, and I thought it was because they were too lazy or didn't want pocket money. Maybe they didn't even exist. The question now is: are they all inside, playing video games?<br />
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The second thing I saw was during my walk this morning. I saw an aluminum, beer can in the street. I haven't had to pick up an aluminum can in years!Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-52066127106818624802020-05-23T17:11:00.000-06:002020-05-23T17:11:04.821-06:00Size MattersI accidentally tore through the knee of the pair of jeans I sometimes wear to work, so I need to replace them. I tried on every other pair of jeans & trousers I have, and I'm embarrassed to say that none of them fits any more. Even the ones marked "relaxed fit" are for skinny people. The manufacturers must be lying their asses off -- which probably explains why they can fit in the jeans but I can't. At least I'll have a generous donation for the thrift store. (Now then, are there any other long-legged men in Albuquerque?)<br />
<br />
And have you ever looked at the models in the photos? Am I supposed to believe that someone with abs like that is actually wearing relaxed fit jeans?<br />
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Interestingly, I had a "regular fit" pair in my drawer (without tags, which means I must have been able to wear them in public at least once), and they weren't much different than the relaxed fit. I guess each brand sizes and fits differently. Still, I think the time has come for me to be honest with myself and go up a size. (Since I live alone, and since it's a holiday weekend, I should be able to get all my sobbing done before returning to work on Tuesday.)<br />
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Alas, I can't go to the store, so I'll have to adventure online. I first looked at the department store that I know sells a brand I like. Naturally, they're out of stock in my size. (Note: that always happens in stores, too.) I checked for the other brand I like, and they have my size, but they're way expensive. Next, I looked at the discount department store's website. They have the second brand, in my size, for an affordable price. The website warns, "Runs large. Consider sizing down." (Believe me, I'm trying!)<br />
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For curiosity's sake, I took a tape measure and put it around my waist. Freeow! That number was a lot bigger than even the larger waist size of jeans! (Maybe men's clothing designers lie as much as women's designers.) It wasn't curiosity that killed the cat. It was shock.Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-44877886312772927352020-04-22T20:22:00.000-06:002020-04-22T20:22:20.725-06:00Why They Call it Grocery "Shopping", not "Buying"Because I live alone and usually buy in bulk, I don't have to go to the supermarket very often. The last time I went was about two weeks ago, after I thought the hoarding frenzy would be over. I was wrong.<br />
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I don't need toilet paper, paper towels, or tissues, but I was curious to see what that aisle looked like. I have never before seen empty shelves in a supermarket. I take that back. They weren't completely empty; there was one box of tissues on a shelf.<br />
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There were six more boxes in the shopping cart of the woman in front of me in the aisle. I politely pointed out to her the numerous signs, hanging from empty shelves, limiting each customer to one item. Ashamed at being caught, she put five boxes back on the shelf. She probably circled around after I was gone and put those tissues back in her cart, but I'm sure the cashier would've noticed.<br />
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Here are the items I DID FIND and DID BUY.<br />
1 "fizzy water", 12-pack (calorie-free, carbonated water w/natural flavor)<br />
1 cheese block, 12 oz. package<br />
1 mayonnaise, 16 oz. jar<br />
1 bananas, 4 per stem<br />
1 sandwich bread, loaf<br />
1 shredded wheat cereal, box<br />
1 apples, 5 lb. bag<br />
1 tortilla chips, 1 lb. bag<br />
1 mixed salad, 1 lb. bag<br />
1 ravioli in tomato sauce, can<br />
1 macaroni in tomato sauce, can<br />
Did you notice I limited myself to one of each item, even if there was no limit?<br />
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Here are the items I DID NOT FIND or DID NOT BUY because they were completely sold out, or the store brand, which I usually buy, was depleted.<br />
yogurt, plain, 16 oz.<br />
hot dogs, non-beef, 8-pack<br />
macaroni & cheese, box<br />
cookies (actually, I forgot to look for this item)<br />
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All in all, not a bad result. Plus, since I limited myself to one of each item, I spent a lot less than usual. Bonus: I accidentally discovered where they had hid... moved my preferred brand of pickles. (I did not buy any because, being one of the few name brands I like, I buy them only when they're on sale, and then I stock up.)<br />
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The warehouse club where I went on the way home from work this evening is notorious for moving items around periodically. I think they do it because the managers think customers will walk by other items and impulse-buy. All it does is get me mad at the time I waste looking for the item that "always used to be right there". (Note: tonight, they had moved the soda again.)<br />
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Unfortunately, the warehouse club has shrunk its hours in response to having fewer customers, so it's all I can do to leave work on time, drive the speed limit, deal with highway delays due to road construction or collisions (sometimes both), and get to the club before they close on weeknights. (I never go on weekends. It's a madhouse.) Tonight, after I refueled my car (which I always do first, so any cold items I buy don't have more time to warm up), I had just fifteen minutes to do my shopping. Did I make it?<br />
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These are the items I DID FIND and DID BUY.<br />
1 milk, box of 2-gal.<br />
1 eggs, tray of 2 dozen<br />
1 sliced ham (for sandwiches), 2-pack<br />
1 bacon, 4-pack<br />
1 frozen veggies, mixed, 5.5 lb. bag<br />
1 Dr. Pepper, 35 cans/tray (no, I don't know why not 36)<br />
1 oranges, 13 lb. box<br />
1 mixed nuts, 2.5 lb. jar<br />
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I think I got to the checkout line just at closing time. Considering that the refrigerated and frozen section are in the very back of the store, in the far-opposite corner from the entrance, I think I did pretty well. (Thanks, mom, for giving me such long legs.) There were just three items I DID NOT LOOK FOR so DID NOT BUY on this trip.<br />
ground beef<br />
chicken breasts, boned<br />
juice, non-refrigerated<br />
(I'm not running out of them yet, so they can wait a bit.)<br />
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I didn't look to see if they had any toilet paper or paper towels. Actually, since I don't buy those items at the warehouse club, I don't even know where that aisle is.<br />
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I'll have to return to the grocery store soon. I've eaten nearly all the bread and cheese, and the salad is long gone. (I don't care for the brands of bread the warehouse club stocks, and I
don't think I could eat however many pounds of salad they sell before it
goes bad.) Plus, there are those other items I didn't get and still want. And, if I get just one item at a time, I can slowly stock up on some of the others. Come to think of it, some canned fruit would be nice, too.Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-81122382379136885942020-04-02T17:03:00.000-06:002020-04-05T06:20:52.934-06:00Please Hand Me My CaneI am at the age where there's a disconnect between my mind and body. My mind feels young. My body doesn't. Then again, my mind also thinks that something from 12 years ago is "recent", so maybe I shouldn't trust my mind, either.<br />
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Plus, I've never been good at estimating people's ages. I thought I had it right, for once, today. Guess I was wrong again.<br />
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I was at the warehouse club, picking up a flat of Dr. Pepper. A kid was there, and the flat he held was falling apart, so I helped him keep the soda cans from crashing to the floor & spraying all over us. I say "kid" because he had down on his upper lip. He looked barely old enough to shave.<br />
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"Thanks. My wife asked me to pick up her favorite beverage."<br />
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WIFE?<br />
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This "kid" looks barely old enough to shave, and he has a WIFE?<br />
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Okay, I'm going to go home and die now.Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-4202128943869925032020-03-23T20:46:00.005-06:002020-03-23T20:46:45.894-06:00You Can't Tell Me What to Do!For a couple of weeks now, the media have been urging everyone to "practice social distancing". Practice? I'm an expert! In fact, shouldn't my expertise more properly be called "anti-social distancing"?<br />
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A friend showed me this, this past weekend. I loved it.<br />
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You laugh because you know it's true. And, if you laugh because you know it's true, you, too, are an introvert.<br /><br />Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-24554035219050277942020-02-04T17:06:00.003-07:002020-02-04T17:06:59.499-07:00Does This Color Make My Bumper Look Fat?Because I drive the speed limit during my commute, I get passed by a lot of cars -- especially when I'm behind a vehicle driving even more slowly than I am. I usually pass the time by counting how many cars pass me before I, too, can overtake the slower vehicle. I've gotten up to 44 or 45 before losing count.<br />
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The other day, I tried something different. I pondered if my peripheral vision could detect the color of the next car about to pass me, just as it entered my sight. It did. After 36 cars, the color I first saw was correct.<br />
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What surprised me was the limited number of colors. Out of 36 cars, one was orange. All the rest were red/maroon, black, white, or silver/gray. There were no yellow, brown, green, or blue cars (unless the green/blue were so dark they passed for black). I stopped at 36 because the sun had gone down, and it was getting too dark to determine any color.<br />
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I repeated the experiment another day, with 42 cars. Substitute a chartreuse car (we'll call it ugly yellow) for the orange, but all the other colors were the same as the first time.<br />
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How boring. I'll admit to driving a silver car (family tradition), but I'm surprised by how few car colors people choose, out of all the ones possible. Maybe it's just in New Mexico. Maybe the rest of the world drives interestingly colored cars.<br />
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I'm tempted to break with tradition the next time I buy a car, if only to liven up the road. Can you see me in a purple car? Blue with yellow lightning down each side? Do you think any body shop could custom-paint my car to look like an owl?Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-90150935235270966702020-02-02T15:56:00.003-07:002020-02-02T15:56:55.088-07:00Cap'n Chlorophyll's Day OffSince my friend Betty hasn't posted anything about it on <a href="http://maximumverbosit.blogspot.com/">her blog</a> yet (And why not? You can make fun of me in public for this!), I'll tell you about what we did on our day off.<br />
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The genesis and overarching goal was this: the <a href="https://www.cabq.gov/culturalservices/albuquerque-museum/exhibitions/jim-henson-imagination-unlimited">Jim Henson exhibit at the Albuquerque Museum</a>. I saw it in the paper a couple months ago, and we decided, "We can <i>not</i> miss this." Since we're only a couple years younger than <i>Sesame Street</i>, we have been Muppets fiends our whole lives.<br />
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Okay, great idea, but can we make it work? It would have to be a day we both were off work, and considering Betty's a shift-worker whose schedule changes weekly in insane ways, it wouldn't be easy.<br />
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Then my car reached 200,000 miles. "Hmm," I thought, "I probably ought to have it checked out, since I've done nothing else to it but have the oil changed and replace the tires." I further thought that this (whatever "this" is) probably would take all day, and even with several books, and even though they installed a comfy sofa (with soft cushions!) in the waiting room, I would not want to wait at a car service station <i>all day</i>. Alas, I have no friends in town who could pick me up after I dropped off my car. "Hmm," I thought again (I ponder a lot). Could we work it that I drop off my car, Betty drives up from Socorro to pick me up, and we go see the Muppets?<br />
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This story already is too long, so I will shorthand it by extolling Betty's wisdom at putting in for a vacation day even though she already was scheduled that day off, because she knows her coworkers well enough to predict that one of them indeed wanted the day off and asked her to switch, but she had put in her request first. Ha! You will not deny us the Muppets!<br />
<br />
I hadn't even finished the first book I was working on when Betty arrived. (She is not a morning person, but she hit the road at 8:00 a.m. Such a sacrifice to our friendship!) We couldn't decide on a place to eat Second Breakfast, so we figured we'd eat a light snack at the museum to tide us over until a late lunch of cheesesteaks. She entered the address into her phone's GPS, and off we went. Wherever that was. The GPS started spouting incomprehensible directions that made absolutely no sense.<br />
<br />
This is entirely my fault. I first thought it was my Weather Wizardry, which wreaks havoc with all forms of technology. I apologized to Betty in advance if it happened to snow that day. (The forecast was for sunny and 49 degrees F.) A second possibility was that I plugged my phone into her charger and set it next to her phone. Maybe her phone was nervous with a strange phone sitting next to it. (Betty's cats were never all that pleased by my occasional visits, either.) Maybe it was jealous that some other phone was using her charger. At any rate, the GPS kept spouting incredible directions, and we might be halfway to, well, anywhere if we had actually followed them. (Betty never again will doubt my judgment at bringing my paper atlas of Albuquerque streets "just in case".)<br />
<br />
The Incident was also my fault. I should have realized that yelling, "Go! Go! Go!" to a driver unfamiliar with the city and slightly distracted by her wonky GPS sounds remarkably like, "No! No! No!" Fortunately, Betty did <i>not</i> drive her car into the curb, and we were <i>not</i> run into by two other cars (no matter how close their drivers came to ignoring the law of physics that prohibits two objects from occupying the same space at the same time).<br />
<br />
After I promised not to say anything else to distract Betty's driving, we arrived at the museum without further incident. We each ordered a breakfast burrito (passable) then were pleasantly enthralled by the exhibit. (There were parents with young children there, but there also were many other middle-aged people like us, so we weren't the only ones instantly transported back to some of the most delightful moments of our childhoods.) The most focus was on <i>Sesame Street</i> because it's familiar to the largest number of people, but the exhibit also included items from <i>Sam and Friends</i>, the Wilkins Coffee commercials, <i>The Muppet Show</i>, <i>Fraggle Rock</i>, <i>The Dark Crystal</i>, <i>Labyrinth</i>, and <i>The Storyteller</i> TV series. Most of the actual Muppets on display were larger than I expected of hand puppets, but I realized they had to be, since many of them interacted with humans and had to be of similar scale. Plus, I got to see my favorite: Grover.<br />
<br />
Alas, the museum shop did not have T-shirts, but Betty did pick up a copy of <a href="https://www.librarything.com/work/87945/book/96785196">Jim Henson: The Works</a>. (I already have a copy.) We both already have copies of <a href="https://www.librarything.com/work/13930050/book/102334002">Jim Henson: The Biography</a> which also was on sale. The store also had revised copies of <a href="https://www.librarything.com/work/35544/book/178437215">The Monster at the End of This Book</a>, which was a favorite of both of ours, and which we'd read over & over again, despite knowing how it would end. We didn't buy that one, either. I don't know about Betty, but I'll search used bookstores to find an original, Golden Books edition.<br />
<br />
After the museum, we stopped by Betty's favorite tea shop. Since it was nearby, since she was low on her favorite tea, and since she doesn't come to the city very often were all good reasons to go. While Betty did whatever she did, I browsed. The second room had some non-tea items. I found a box of four <i>Doctor Who</i> coasters, which, obviously, she couldn't pass up. (She cursed me in the most loving way possible.)<br />
<br />
Incidentally, Betty had shut down & restarted her phone, and that brief nap did the GPS lady a world of good.<br />
<br />
Betty got back at me, though, when we went to <a href="https://www.page1book.com/">Page One</a> bookstore. I told myself that I would buy only books that were on the wishlist I had brought with me. Then Betty pointed out <a href="https://www.librarything.com/work/20572731/book/167159101">Born to be Posthumous</a>, Edward Gorey's biography. Then she stood near a gardening book I wanted. Okay, both those books were on my computerized wishlist, not my paper one, but, still, they both were wishlisted, so they count. I also had told myself that I had an envelope of money in my jacket pocket and that was my budget, but... It's a good thing I had my credit card with me. Still, my wishlist did diminish by nine.<br />
<br />
After that, we had our always-wonderful cheesesteaks at <a href="https://www.phillysteaksabq.com/">Philly Steaks</a>. Then Betty dropped me off at the service center & headed back to Socorro. It was only minutes later that my car was back from it's test-drive and returned to me. The day was ending much better than it had started. (Betty sent me a text to let me know when she got home, so the GPS lady must have cooperated enough to get her out of the city.)<br />
<br />
So, what did you do on your day off?Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-50763368149729819682020-01-26T10:33:00.001-07:002020-01-26T10:33:11.851-07:00I'm Glad I Didn't Think of This Until After BreakfastAccording to someone's online Twitter post (so no idea if it's accurate), "A bill was proposed in 1910 to release hippos into the Louisiana bayous
as a way to clear out invasive river plants and solve a critical meat
shortage. It was backed by former President Roosevelt & <i>The New York
Times</i>, which praised hippo meat as tasting like 'lake cow bacon.'"<br />
<br />
Which begs the obvious question: If lake cow bacon is made of lake cows, what is Canadian bacon made of? Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-82406165431702816122020-01-24T19:20:00.000-07:002020-01-24T19:20:07.030-07:00I Just Can't See Myself Going Back ThereToday's mail brought an envelope from the last place I bought eyeglasses. It was addressed, "To The Parents of Cap'n Chlorophyll". Can the Postal Service forward mail to the afterlife?<br />
<br />
Inside, the sales letter started, "Dear Cap'n," so at least they got that right.<br />
<br />
At the very bottom was the sentence, "Important details about this offer on the other side." You guessed it: the other side was blank. Dang, my eyesight went quickly!Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-42810362081434519402019-11-28T07:41:00.001-07:002019-11-28T07:41:40.930-07:00I'm Dreaming of a White ThanksgivingI shoveled 4" or more of snow this morning, and finished just before the newspaper was delivered. (I gave him a nice, wide landing area on my driveway, for when he tossed it from his car.) A powdery snow is still falling. A friend was planning on driving into town to visit and have dinner with me at <a href="https://www.blackangus.com/">Black Angus</a>, one of our favorite restaurants. (I'm erring on her side of caution and figure she won't make the drive, so I cleared only enough space in the driveway for my car.) I sent her a text about the snow and said I might walk to Spain later, to see if the city plowed the main roads.<br />
<br />
For those of you not familiar with my area of Albuquerque, Spain is the closest, main road to my house. I think it funny that the next, main road to the south is Manitoba. I sometimes wonder if you can drive from Spain to Manitoba (or Manitoba to Spain, depending which direction you're going) in an instant anywhere else in the world.<br />
<br />
/ahem/ I'd like to dedicate this next song to my Canadian friends.<br />
<br />
<i>It seems it never rains in southern Manitoba,</i><br />
<i>But it snows.</i><br />
<i>Man, it snows!</i>Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-63433380419797273362019-11-27T21:08:00.002-07:002019-11-27T21:08:37.413-07:00I Don't Think I've Shared This One with You YetTonight is the first snow of the year for Albuquerque. (It has already snowed a couple of times in Santa Fe.) I made sure to refuel my car this evening. As I neared my house, I thought it wasn't a fit night to be out. Only the pet owners would be out, because their dogs need to be walked, regardless of the weather. I smiled at a memory. <br />
<br />
Some time ago, a coworker was talking about one of our customers and said, "The guy who walks her dog is a friend of R-----'s, but I don't remember his name."<br />
<br />
"Luke," I said.<br />
<br />
My coworkers looked at me with surprise.<br />
<br />
"Luke Dogwalker."Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-1357000135067274852019-09-28T12:28:00.002-06:002019-09-28T12:29:24.914-06:00I Think It Happened Near a FjordYou wouldn't know it, what with me having the name Chlorophyll, but I am descended from Scots on my mother's side. My friend Gimpy is, too, though on his father's side. He is very proud of his ancestry, so I just bought him a little book called <i>Clans and Tartans</i>. Before turning it over to him, I thought I'd check out my own clan. Among the various ways my clan has distinguished itself, it "...took an active part in the Battle of Pinkie in 1547...."Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-52605132442755999542019-09-14T08:18:00.001-06:002019-09-14T08:18:10.481-06:00In Which I Pun MyselfAs I stood up from the breakfast table, I thought, "I am fortified."<br />
<br />
A little voice elsewhere in my brain replied, "No, you're forty-eight."Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-10463374351239974962019-08-06T07:21:00.000-06:002019-08-06T07:21:27.847-06:00The Oy's of Home-OwnershipThe bank managing my mother's estate let me know a couple of weeks ago that ownership of her house has been turned over to me. Naturally, things have started breaking.<br />
<br />
It is monsoon season, which means occasional, strong rainstorms. It also apparently means that the roof leaked again over the upstairs bathroom. ("Wasn't this already fixed earlier this year, Cap'n?" you may well ask. "It was supposed to be," I may well reply.)<br />
<br />
Since I already have to be home for the roofers, I might as well have the plumber come, too. The master bathroom toilet has been trickling for months (or would be, if I didn't keep the water to it turned off at the wall), and there's some tank (might be a filtration system) in the garage, which hasn't been touched in the nearly five years I've been at the house, and I know nothing about (I don't know who convinced or conned my mother into installing it, whatever it turns out to be), so I figure it's overdue for a checkup.<br />
<br />
I might as well have as many repairs taken care of that I can, so I'm also having a glass repair service come to patch the multiple "stars" on my windshield (yet another downfall of a long, highway commute).<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, the appliance repair service can't come until Thursday afternoon, so I'll have to lose more time at work. (Thankfully, that will fall in a different pay period.) This is for the most recent and the oldest repairs. Just this weekend, the refrigerator compartment stopped cooling -- although the freezer compartment still works. (There went my milk and eggs and leftovers and...) I brushed the coils beneath the unit, but it didn't help. Since I have to miss work anyway, and since I have to pay for a service call, I might as well get my money's worth, so the repairman will also look at the non-igniting burners on the stove and the non-functioning clock/timer on the oven. Those have been problems since well before my mom's passing, but better to pay for just what's needed than to buy a whole new stove/oven (or refrigerator/freezer).<br />
<br />
Oy vey.Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-59673458993220610242019-08-04T07:22:00.000-06:002019-08-04T07:22:30.082-06:00Must've Been Some Knife!It always amuses me when people publish newspaper headlines that mean more than the writer or editor intended. I've finally found one myself.<br />
<br />
The front page of the Tuesday, July 30, 2019 edition of the <i>Albuquerque Journal</i> included <a href="https://www.abqjournal.com/1346568/bcso-woman-fatally-shot-by-deputies-was-armed-with-a-knife.html">this headline</a> above the fold: "BCSO: Woman fatally shot by deputies armed with knife".<br />
<br />
The way I read it, the deputies used a knife to shoot the woman. (Some feat!) They probably meant that the woman was armed with a knife. Rewriting the headline as "Woman armed with knife fatally shot by deputies" isn't any better, though. Then it sounds as if the knife was killed.<br />
<br />
Let's stick in a couple of commas, and it should be good to go. "Woman, armed with knife, fatally shot by deputies".Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-13692604380997967132019-07-11T19:04:00.001-06:002019-07-11T19:04:07.896-06:00In Which Even I Groan at This Awful PunSherlock Holmes & his partner arrived at the scene of their latest case.<br />
"A primary school?"<br />
"It's Watson, my dear elementary."Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29433754.post-76507626629219146902019-05-08T07:09:00.003-06:002019-05-08T07:09:56.312-06:00Poor SportsI don't watch much TV, but I still review the TV schedule to see if something interesting might be on. Usually, it's a whole bunch of channels with nothing that interests me. "Who would watch that?" I tend to think. Who, indeed?<br />
<br />
Last night (Tuesday, May 7, 2019), my schedule said that ESPN2 would air "Cornhole: ACL Mania" from 6:00 p.m. until 8:00 p.m. I don't know what that is in the sporting world, but in the vernacular I learned, "cornholing" isn't something you're allowed to show on television.<br />
<br />
Immediately after that, from 8:00 p.m. until 10:00 p.m., was "WATL Axe Throwing: Canadian Open". What size axes do they use? At what (or whom) do they throw them? Do they have men's and women's heats, or are the competitions mixed? Finally, the biggest question, who would watch axe throwing for two hours?<br />
<br />
Wasn't there a baseball game somewhere they could televise?Captain Chlorophyllhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16160624482609256786noreply@blogger.com0