Edit!

Take this from a person who has made their share of writing boo-boos.  I rarely have a perfect first draft of anything I write.  I have learned (painfully) to carefully go over what I write and almost invariably discover something that would be embarrassing to publish.  This is especially critical when writing advertising copy destined be read by great multitudes.

Today I came across this example:

“Over time, this can add to unwanted weight gain that you do not want.”

A good, solid edit would have discovered this and restructured it.  Unwanted mistakes like this are something you do not want.

The Satanic Western Diet

I have no idea to whom to attribute the following little article to — I just found it in my collection.  If you know the author, I will give full credit to him/her. Some of my readers may not know that I recently endured double bypass surgery.  I have determined to never do that again.  I will recommend a couple of books that have converted me to a plant-based, fat-free diet.  In the meantime enjoy the little parable below.

And God populated the earth with broccoli and cauliflower and spinach, green and yellow vegetables of all kinds, so Man and Woman would live long and healthy lives.

And Satan created McDonald’s. And McDonald’s brought forth the double-cheeseburger. And Satan said to Man, “You want fries with that?” And Man said, “Super size them.” And Man gained pounds.

And God created the healthful yogurt, that woman might keep her figure that man found so fair.   And Satan froze the yogurt, and he brought forth chocolate, nuts and brightly colored sprinkle candy to put on the yogurt. And woman gained pounds.

And God said, “Try my crispy fresh salad.”  And Satan brought forth creamy dressings, bacon bits, and shredded cheese. And there was ice cream for dessert. And woman gained pounds

And God said, “I have sent your heart healthy vegetables and olive oil with which to cook them.”  And Satan brought forth chicken-fried steak so big it needed its own platter. And Man gained pounds, and his bad cholesterol went through the roof.

And God brought forth running shoes, and Man resolved to lose those extra pounds.   And Satan brought forth cable TV with remote control so Man would not have to toil to change channels between ESPN and EPSN2. And Man gained pounds.

And God said, “You’re running up the score, Devil.”

And God brought forth the potato, a vegetable naturally low in fat and brimming with nutrition.   And Satan peeled off the healthful skin and sliced the starchy center into chips and deep fat fried them. And he created sour cream dip also. And Man clutched his remote control and ate the potato chips swaddled in cholesterol. And Satan saw and said,

“It is good.”

And Man went into cardiac arrest.

And God sighed and created quadruple bypass surgery…

And Satan created HMOs.

Overweight, Oversensitive and Overheard

All this talk about overweight Americans has got me a bit skittish.  I have a very hard time losing weight and keeping it off.  I, along with New Jersey governor Christie, don’t need to be told I’m too fat.  I’ve been on the heavy side a loong time. So, I admit to being a little bit sensitive what with all this negative press.

Recently, for example, I was eating breakfast (fat or not, you should always eat breakfast) at our local grocery store foodbar.  Several groups of older men gather there to talk and drink weak coffee.  Some of them were seated behind me and I couldn’t help overhearing some comments that got my attention.

“Wow! He’s a big’un ain’t he?

“Did you see his body?”

“Yup, he must weigh 220!”

“Lookit them littlebitty horns.”

By this time I realized they weren’t talking about me.  After all, I weigh a bit more than that.

A Wasted Morning

It’s a shame to write only when one is irritated.  Do it often enough and you will earn the designation, “curmudgeon.”  I am, at the moment, highly irritated and I am writing.  But I promise not to make it a habit.

Abilene is not really a small town, but sometimes it seems to be.  One would think that most things would be readily available here, especially medical supplies.  We have a dozen or so listed in the phone book and so, I got on the phone and began calling to find a particular item I really needed today.  I called several places, a couple of which did not have the item in stock but promised they could get it by the next day.  I decided to keep calling around to see if I could find it in stock somewhere.

My first “hit” was a place called “Choice Medical Supply.”  Yes, the lady told me, they had some in stock.  “Great,” said I and hopped in the car to pick one up.  It was not a short drive but not all that far either.

When I arrived, the lady I talked to on the phone led me into a room whose walls were lined with this and that.  But when we came to the place where it should be…guess what…it wasn’t there!

“I thought it would be right there,” she said.

“You mean, when I called you didn’t check to see if it was really in stock?” said I with growing dismay.

“I’m sorry,” she offered, “I thought we had some.”

“Look,” I said, “that’s the reason I called ahead so that I wouldn’t make a useless journey!”

“So sorry,” she said, “it’s my fault.”

At that moment, some language I learned long ago in the oil field came to mind.  I wanted to say, “You’re (fill in the blanks here) right!  It sure as (blank) isn’t my fault!”  But, keeping in mind certain biblical injunctions regarding a Christian’s speech, I simply stalked out.

Returning to the car, I consulted a phone book we keep there for situations such as this, and called some additional suppliers.  I kept striking out until one person told me that “West Texas Rehab” would be my best bet.  Since it was on my way home, I stopped in.  The very kind and polite lady there said they had sold their supply business and it was now “Travis Medical.”  She offered to call for me and, wonderful news, they had one!  It was two-thirds of the way back to “Choice Medical” but I was so happy to have found what I needed that I willingly and joyfully drove to their place.

In spite of having difficulty finding their location, I arrived in high spirits.  “We called a few minutes ago, looking for (the elusive item),” I said, flashing my best smile.

“Oh yes,” the man jovially responded, “it is right over….well, I thought it was there.”

“Oh no!” I said, my smile turning to a look of horror.  “We called,” I cried, “you said you had one!”

“I thought we did but it turns out it was this thingy,” he said lamely (the “thingy” bears little resemblance to what I was after).

“But that’s the reason I called ahead!” I responded with growing anger.  I looked for a table or something to turn over and drive everyone out with a cord of whips.  In the end, I simply walked out with slumped, defeated shoulders.

Finally, all hope of imminent success gone, I called one of the other medical suppliers who had promised they could have one by the next day.

“Should be here between 10 and 11 in the morning,” she said.

“Are you sure?” I asked with trembling voice and a tear threatening to form.

“I’m sure,” she said confidently.

As you might guess, dear reader, I’ll believe it when I touch it.

It’s About Time

http://lssacademy.com/2008/06/30/ban-the-stop-watch/

Part of an advertisement for a fancy thermostat: “Instant readings are available within 10 seconds.”

My immediate reaction was how can it be both?  It is either instant or it is within ten seconds.

Of course, there’s “instant” and then there’s “real quick.”  When I was a kid, we used to play outside (those were different times) and, come suppertime or bedtime my mother would say, “Come inside this instant!”  “We’re coming!” we’d reply…but we weren’t doing any such thing.  We were still playing.  We were going to squeeze every bit possible out of the interval between her expectation and our compliance.  She wanted instant action; we wanted to delay her desire in favor of ours for as long as we could.  It was a delicate balance between what she wanted and what we thought we could get away with.

When my wife (who, incidentally, is a gourmet cook whose culinary creations are not to be missed) tells me “Dinner is ready,” I know she means that I should stop studying, writing, carving or gardening, and wash my hands, a process taking up to five minutes or so.  It really means, “Dinner will be ready about the time you have finished getting ready to come to the table.”  We have that understanding developed in our nearly fifty years of marriage.

So, I’ll give you all of that but I still don’t understand how something can be “instant” with the possibility of a ten-second delay.  Sorry, advertising agency, I can’t let you get away with such a contradictory claim.  You might call it nitpicking.  You can feel free to express that in the comment section and I will instantly give you my reply sometime.

Conversation in the Alley

I was driving down the alley when this old fellow (“old fellows” are, by definition older than me) opened his gate and his little dog ran between his legs right into my path.  I slammed on the brakes kicking up a cloud of dust.  A look of relief came over his face (the man’s) when he realized I had not flattened Rover.  The dog looked aged.  He was sprinkled with gray hairs in his coat and he was a little overweight.  I had come close to sending him to his doggy reward.  His owner grabbed him up, came around to the driver’s side and I rolled down the window to hear what he had to say.

“Oh thank you!” he said, his little dog safe in his arms.

“Sure glad I didn’t hit him,” said I.

“Me too!” he replied.  “You want some granite slabs?”

“Uh…granite slabs?” I asked, a little confused at the abrupt change of subject.

“Yep.  I’ve got eleven of ‘em,”

“Well, I don’t know…”

“Well, I’m puttin’ eleven of ‘em out here in the alley for anyone who wants them.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it.”

I slowly drove off, pondering the unlikely conversational combination of old men, old dogs and old granite slabs.

Talk Show Host

Ten Reasons I am Qualified

I wonder if there is any place I can audition to become a talk show host?  Let me modestly say I believe I have the talents to be the next star of a news show or a talk show on national TV.  Even though I am not blond (does white hair count?), beautiful, Irish or British, after watching some of these shows, I seem to have other necessary prerequisite skills.

1. I am always right about everything (always have been) and willing to remind listeners and guests of that fact.
2. I have a passable voice but, most important of all, I can be loud and/or shrill when necessary.
3. I can interrupt anyone at any time having practiced this skill for many years with my wife, children and others, especially at family gatherings (other than funerals).
4. I can also talk over others when what I want to say is obviously more important than what they are saying.
5. I know how to ask a question and then refuse to let the guest answer it by virtue of skill number four.
6. I know how to ask a leading, off-the-subject, off-the-wall, personal or embarrassing question just to see my guests squirm uncomfortably.
7. I am confident (and how!) I can invite an “expert” on to my show to interview and then prove I know more about their field than he or she does.  This is especially important for guests I disagree with or don’t particularly like.
8. I can also talk so much that we run out of time to let the expert explain whatever it is that they are experts of/on/about.
9. I am adept at interviewing authors without ever reading any of their books except the title, the introduction, the conclusion and the cover notes.  I’m going to cut them off at three minutes flat anyway.
10. When someone is too disgusted with my tactics to appear on my show, I have a number of things I can call them: Pinhead, dweeb, coward, sleazy, etc.

Finally, I don’t care what everybody else is saying, I am not a narcissist.

Who Wood Do This?

The Scene of the Crime

This genuine, un-retouched, un-photo-shopped photo tells the sordid truth: someone dumped their junk wood in front of my shop.  And, it’s not even good wood.  Most of it would not even be good firewood (which just burns me up)!  You would think that whoever went to the trouble to gather up this stuff and dump it on me could have just dumped it in the alley for the city to pick up instead.  Now, I have to lug it out to the alley myself.

No one has come forward to take responsibility for this heinous crime.  At first, I thought it might have been someone with good intentions.  Since I am a woodcarver (you can see my work at http://whitcarv.wordpress.com), I thought someone was making an anonymous donation of raw materials. Upon closer examination, however, it became apparent this was not the case.  Some I can burn but most will end up in the alley of broken wood.  I may be barking up the wrong tree, but no use pining, it goes against my grain.

I have a usual suspect in mind but, of course, can’t prove it.  Anyway, several previous confrontations have not kept him off my property and I doubt another would be any more effective.  For years I have wanted to fence in the area around my shop and garden.  A nice, chain-link fence might not stop trespassers but it would certainly make it more difficult.  The area, however, is large and my finances are small.  Still, I can dream can’t I?

Comments

Since I changed the host for my gardening blog, “West Texas Gardener: Sun, Wind, Sweat and Mulch” (http://westexasgardener.com) I have been the target of spam (no, not the salty stuff that comes in cans).  On my old free site a program automatically eliminated spam but now, unless I want to pay over $5 a month for an automatic “spaminator,” I have to do it myself.  Not a problem…yet…since I moderate all comments.  It takes a few minutes to read the nonsensical blatherings, immediately recognize they are trash and consign them to the electronic garbage bin.  Here’s an example from today:

“Nice bothering to debate this method, I think honestly a lot also true love exploring read more about this method subject matter. Any time likelihood, like you achieve competencies, do you ever reactions adding to your entire journal by using furthermore facts? This is very ideal for my home.”

Since I was not debating a method and know nothing about “true love exploring” and “furthermore facts,” it was an obvious ploy.  Sometimes they are in some Eastern European Cyrillic script which probably translates to something akin to, “My name Peggy” or my quote above.  It is an effort to slip their URL into the path of unsuspecting comment-readers.  Can you imagine a job requiring you to go through the millions of blogs and try to surreptitiously slip some stupid site address into the comment section?  BORING!

Blasé to a Fault

I just watched another of those “Flash Mob” videos…truly amazing.  I have never been in one of those favored locations but I have watched a half-dozen or so on my computer screen.  What a kick to be in the midst of an unexpected performance by a dance group, choir or band!  I hope it happens to me sometime.

What has impressed me each time is that some of the shoppers continue shopping as if nothing were happening.  It almost seems as though they are stubbornly resisting being impressed or even interested.  They just go right on looking for an item of clothing or examining the eggs or pricing the butter.  What’s wrong with these people!?  What will it take to impress them?