The Rise Of Empty Trash

Since I am limited in what I can do for entertainment, or to pass the time when all energy has drained,  I turn to Netflix or Hulu for a little diversion. Much of the stuff there is useless or mind numbing but they do have a good movie occasionally and TV shows I don't mind watching.

I have always liked police procedurals, but so many of the new ones want to dwell on some psychological flaw of the main character, his/her struggle with personal issues. That gets old, and sometimes just flat boring and depressing. I was really sorry that Law and Order ended and I have watched them as reruns so many times that they're useless now. I wish they would have episodes of The Closer, which ended a few years back, but so far they aren't available. Monk is another one I enjoyed, but again have seen too many times and I don't think it is available any more anyway.

I also like a good mystery, one where the antagonist is not patently obvious in the first ten minutes of the show. Then there are several Sci-Fi shows and movies that have been pretty entertaining and well written. And the more cerebral shows such as Madame Secretary keep my attention as well.

Which brings me to my complaint about the content that many movies carry. If you don't like the F-word, or having courage described as a part of a man's anatomy (even for women), then there are slim pickings. That F-word is ubiquitous.  Now, I can understand certain situations where it can be a productive part of the plot, in scenes which are highly dangerous or defining. But honestly, does it need to be every other word in a script? Did the screenwriters not take a Creative Writing course at some point in their life? One of the first things you learn is not to overuse a word so it doesn't lose its impact. It's as if the writers take the easy way out, rather than take time to be creative or pick up a dictionary. They use the word because they can, and because they can they rub your face in it. And no matter what the plot is about, they will make money. And honestly, it wouldn't matter what word it was, if it was repeated so frequently you would get tired of hearing it!

"What the pig do you think you're doing?"

"None of your pigging business, you pigging idiot!"

"Pig you! Those are my pigging medals and I don't want you pigging touching them!"

"Pig, pig, pig! I've given you pigging everything and this is how you pigging treat me? Pig you!"

"Pig! There are some pigging things I don't share, and you should pigging know that. Pig you!"

Ad nauseam.

Anther frustration is the plot line. A lot of movies depend so heavily on CGI (computer generated image), there is not much of a story. Recently I watched Dr. Strange on Netflix. It was OK, it was predictable but nonetheless entertaining in a way. Today I clicked on Thor:Ragnaruk, because I knew it was a big deal when it first came out. Twenty six minutes into the movie, I hit the exit button. Really? What a boring film! And big name stars such as Anthony Hopkins and Benedict Cumberbatch are involved. My guess is that it's an easy paycheck for them. It's rather disappointing!

I don't think it's my age, a good story is timeless. Screenwriters used to be much more creative than they are now, it seems. Presently many movies are remakes of earlier films (that never works!); Ben Hur is a good example. I actually read the book a few years back and even though the original film was 4 hours long, they still had to leave things out. The recent Ben Hur was a crashing bore with the only similarities being the title and the name of the characters. And of course the chariot race, otherwise how could they convince themselves they were making another great movie?

The other genre is comic books. A few of them were good, I really enjoyed Ironman, and Captain America, although I had to laugh at the computer generated main character before he was changed to the hero. No one looks that scrawny and gets into the Army! Now films are constantly being made based on comics. Most of them are so poor they aren't worth watching.

Can't anyone tell a good story anymore?

Live your life one day at a time!

The Bird of The Day

I have become an avid birder, even registered with Cornell Lab of Ornithology so I can note what shows up in my back yard for their information. Granted, I have a limited inventory to take note of at the moment because I can't go out birding to other areas away from my home. But I have learned how to use my long lens (finally) and have become more adept at taking pictures from my upstairs room.

One of my favorite birds is the Eastern Towhee. For years it has been called the Rufous Sided Towhee, but now instead of the broad application, it has been divided into two groups - the Eastern Towhee and the Spotted Towhee. We have the Eastern here, and I love to watch them, but they are hard to photograph because they move so quickly as they feed on the ground, and they like shrubs and low hanging tree branches; they even build their nests on the ground. They have russet colored eyes along with a handsome coat but getting that all in sharp focus has been impossible!

The best I could do, it seemed, was this. The eyes aren't apparent and it's not in sharp focus.

Until.....

The other afternoon as I walked up to the window near my bed, I noticed a towhee sitting on the fence! That was just so unusual. He sat completely still, and he was on a fence! Not part of expected towhee behavior. Muttering to myself "Please don't move!" I turned on the camera and shifted it down to focus on him. Not only did he not move, I was able to get some stunning shots! 

You can see how beautiful he is! The female is a dark rich brown instead of black, but has the other markings. Notice his feet? They seem a bit larger than other song birds; I think it's because of how they hunt for food. They make a rapid hop forward, then back, dragging leaf litter off of a patch of ground so they can eat whatever is hiding underneath. They also do that on snow, trying to get to whatever food may be there.

The song they sing sounds like "Drink your teeeeea!" 

This page has a button to click for the song, and for other calls they make. The sound is clearer there than if you play the video at the top of the page.

I keep my camera on a tripod in front of the window so I am ready when I see a bird. It has really helped, since I have to spend so much time on the bed. 

Hope you enjoyed learning about the bird of the day!

Live your life one day at a time!

The Wagon And The Hero

This is one of my favorite stories, and I hope you enjoy it!

The Wagon And The Hero

One of my husband's least favorite things is to go shopping. And car shopping is probably dead last on that list. But sometimes you have to do what is necessary and be thankful that it is not something that has to be done frequently!

In 1988, we had purchased a used station wagon which soon became a driving headache. Among other issues, it leaked in three places around the windshield whenever we had a respectable amount of rain, one of the leaks in the driver's area. After trying in vain to seal the leaks, and deal with the other issues, we finally agreed to purchase a new car on sale. John did some research on cars and we put together a list of possibilities. We watched the ads in the newspaper and decided to spend the last day of the year making the rounds of the auto dealerships.

Dec 31, 1988 was a very rainy, cold and windy day in Charleston SC, and that didn't add to our mood as we started the day out early. After depositing our 5 year old daughter with a neighbor, we began our hunt. We visited several car dealers, made several test drives and had narrowed it down to a couple of choices. The last place we visited was a Nissan dealership. They had a 1988 Nissan Stanza wagon marked down on sale with several thousand dollars off the listed price. We took it for a test drive, and really liked it. After we got back to the dealership, we talked it over, then told the salesman that we wanted to purchase it.

By then it was late in the day, and getting dark early because of the weather. We were tired and weary, but John was vigilant as began the process of purchasing the car with all the paperwork involved. We had been escorted to the typical small, windowless office (really not more than the size of a closet) and then Mickey-the-salesman began playing the game that car salesmen often do, finding reasons to leave the room to make us think he was trying to get a better deal for us. He kept saying things like "let me ask my manager about that - I think I can reduce the price" or "I'll go check about the percentage", or "You're such a great couple, let me see if I can get a lower rate for ______" and then he'd go out in the lobby for a smoke. Yes, I know that's what he was doing! And then of course, he'd come back and assure us that he was trying to get a better deal.

These types of actions were one of the main reasons John hated to buy a car. He doesn't like to argue, he doesn't like stalling and he doesn't like it when someone isn't being upfront about something. He was trying to be patient as we sat there, very weary, with a haze of cigarette smoke hanging in the air. But Micky-the-salesman went one step too far when he came back in after the umpteenth time, sat down behind the little desk and said rather hesitantly "I ..., um, I just found out that the car doesn't have air conditioning. Do you think you need air conditioning?" 

John looked at him for a split second, then rising from his chair he stormed "Do we need air conditioning?!? DO WE NEED AIR CONDITIONING?!?!?! IF THIS WERE ALASKA WOULD YOU ASK US IF WE NEEDED HEATING???" and turned to me and said "Let's go!"

Now my husband had always been an even tempered man, and during the 7 years we had been married, I had very rarely ever seen him lose his temper, and even then it was hardly an outburst. But this so stunned me and Mickey-the-salesman both that we just sat there for a minute, not moving, Mickey's mouth hanging open. John stood in front of me and said firmly "Let's go, honey." and I rose from my chair and followed him out.

When we reached the showroom, it became apparent that John's outburst had been heard by most of the staff still on the clock that New Year's Eve. We marched straight out the door into the rain, and I was still trying to adjust to what just happened. We hadn't gone more than a couple of feet when we heard behind us, 

"Mr. Cook! Mr Cook! Wait! Please come back, we can straighten this out! Please, Mr. Cook!"

 John had opened the umbrella and we turned as he raised it over our heads. There stood the manager of the dealership at the door, and we noticed that most of the salesmen were behind him, visible through the glass. John said "I'm not going to be jerked around like that!" More apologies from the manager, and after hesitating a moment, John said "Okay, we'll see what you have to say" and we returned to the showroom.

To make a long story short, we received the installation of the A/C at cost (we checked to make sure that part was true - it was), and another discount off of the price. We drove home the blue Stanza wagon and it served us for many years; our then 5 year old daughter later drove it when she was in high school. But the best part of the night was the affirmation that I had married a fair man who would not be pushed around. He was my hero! 

Fish Sauce

I've been disappointed that I have not been able to blog as I had hoped, but I am too crashed to think clearly. I spent 5 hours at the doctor's yesterday and I have tumbled even deeper into crash-land, so I thought I would repost this story from many years ago, and I hope that you enjoy it! 

TO BE HONORED

Today's story gives an example of how we honor one another. Sometimes to do so requires we step out a bit from our comfort zone.

Back in the early 1980's, our church sponsored a family immigrating to the US from Laos. Several of us signed up to take turns orienting them to their new home, helping them learn English and the other myriad details it takes for someone adjusting to a culture  completely foreign to them. I was single at the time, and signed on to be one of several drivers to escort them to various locations - medical exams, customs, grocery store, various appointments and so forth. The family included  the parents, and I think 3 children (I'm not sure of the exact number 30 years later!). It was both fun and awkward, as only the father spoke the most rudimentary English and I understood nothing of what was said when they spoke among themselves. But we laughed a lot and I grew fond of them and could only imagine how it most have felt to have left everything they ever knew, and come to such a different place. They had only been allowed to bring a certain weight per person on the plane, so they valued all that they had brought with them from their homeland.

As I got to know the family better, and they were more comfortable around me, the mother invited me to stay for dinner at the end of one afternoon. I knew that this was a big honor and I agreed and while she prepared the meal, I played with the children. When the time came, I was seated and the food was passed to me to put on my plate first. Bits of meat and vegetables and a large bowl of noodles were passed around and we settled down to eat. As I raised my fork (they used chopsticks) I realized they were admonishing me - "No, no!" - and making motions for me to stop. As I did, the father handed me a bottle, motioning that I was supposed to sprinkle the contents all over my food before eating. As I took the bottle and opened the top a strong fish odor almost made me gag. It was fermented fish sauce, and I found out later that they eat it on almost everything. They had brought it with them from Laos and had brought a new bottle to the table just because I was there. I hesitatingly sprinkled a bit on one area of the noodles on my plate and they, thinking I was being polite, gestured laughingly "No, no! More!". The children joined in, everyone waving their arms and laughing until I had put enough on my food to suit them. Then they in turn applied it liberally to their food. 

Pungent. Extraordinarily pungent! That's the most polite way I can describe it. As I put a mouthful in, I had to literally will myself not to gag and insult them. They were delighted - "Oh, good, good! Ahh!" and I smiled and nodded, and continued to slowly eat, praying constantly that I would be able to swallow the next mouthful. Then the next, and the next, until at last I was finished. As they offered me more, I shook my head, smiling and patted my stomach and they just beamed. I felt like a house divided, smiling and nodding on the outside, wretched and churning on the inside. As the evening drew to a close, and I was making my way to the door, the father said "Wait, please.", turned, left the room and almost immediately returned carrying something carefully in his hands. Then he handed me, almost reverently, my very own bottle of fermented Fish Sauce! I was almost speechless (for several reasons) and all I could say was "Thank you" as they continued to beam and nod their heads.

I was so nauseated for the next 24 hours or so, and it was a combination of being tense as I ate, and eating something so unfamiliar. Of course the nausea passed, but what stayed with me was the lesson they taught me. That bottle they gave me was one of the precious few things they had been able to bring from their homeland and they only had a limited store. They were expressing their gratitude by giving something of great importance to them, and they were genuinely happy to do it. Although I never opened the bottle, it stood as a reminder that no matter how little you have, when you give from your heart, the gift becomes precious and both the giver and the receiver are honored. I laugh now about the story, but I am thankful I had the experience!

Live your life one day at a time!