How do you like to get YOUR exercise?

To our listing in the previous post of observed grammar- and spelling-challenged job ads, we add this gem:


Wen Editor needed. After all, there are unlimited opportunities on the World Wide Wen!


We now proceed to today's post.


Somewhere, Someone must be keeping track of all the New Year's resolutions made each year. And somewhere, Someone has apparently decided that we here in the East are falling behind in our resolution to exercise, and we need some extra incentive.


I say this based on the number of "snow occurrences" we have had so far this winter (approximately two per day). Evidently Someone feels we are not getting enough exercise, and that we need to get out on our driveways and sidewalks and start shoveling to get our blood pumping. I personally prefer to do this the old-fashioned way: by hiring an energetic and eager young person to shovel for us.


The Hero generally prefers to let nature correct its own course, and let the snow melt on its own, even if this takes until April. But this plan of action is often interrupted by thoughtful neighbors who shovel our portion of the sidewalk as well as theirs, which makes us feel a tinge of guilt. But we get over it soon enough.


We therefore have started to rekindle our friendship with the local gym, even getting hooked into the special system that individualizes your experience on several exercise machines. This system is very powerful. It knows how much you weigh, your workout time on each machine, your total workout time per visit, your total workout time across your entire lifetime, how many Twinkies you have eaten since your last visit, etc. It also gives you helpful reminders and encouragement, such as "Dandelions get more exercise more than you do!" 


The nice young man who put all of my information into the system asked how often I usually exercise.


"Once," I said.


"Like, once a week?"


"No, like coming here today."


He did not berate me, although I suspect that was because he knew the system would do that for him.


"Really?" he said. "It looks like you exercise. You look like an athlete."


Of all the things people have said to me in my lifetime, "you look like an athlete" is not one of them.


"Thanks," I said, "but my favorite sport is Couch Potato."


He asked how often I wanted to come to the gym. I wanted to say once a month, but figured that would not go over well with the system. I decided on twice a week.


"What happens if I don't actually come twice a week?" I said.


"We come to your house and break down your door," he said.


"I don't think I'll have a problem coming twice a week."


That was three weeks ago, and we haven't been back since. 


But maybe that's not all bad. Just yesterday, Someone fired up the snow machine, and aimed it all at our yard. At least no one from the gym can get to our door and break it down.

Wanted: Ads with correct English

In my continuing search for a job that will allow me to obtain a meaningful and challenging position that allows for advancement, utilize my previous experience and editorial skills, and offer me unparalleled remuneration and lots of days off, including whenever it snows more than a half inch, it is of some comfort to know that at least one group of individuals out there still needs editors. This group consists of employers, in all industries, who post ads on job sites but are not utilizing their advanced writing skills, such as correct spelling.


Of course these employers have not asked for my editorial opinion on their ads, much less offered to pay me large sums of money for giving it. But because my professional code of honor requires that I do something about the situation, I will therefore poke fun at these ads.

• The ability to obtain an appropraite level of security cleanace is manadatory. But apparently there is no need to know how to spell.

• Excellent proof reading/editing skills is required. But apparently not the proper use of verbs.

• May monitor and verify quality in accordance with statistical process or other control procedures. Requires 3-5 years. Uh, is that to complete one job?

• This opportunity will provide an opportunity to join a dynamic team working to.... Thanks, but I'm not sure there's enough opportunity here for me.

• Writing and editing with attention to detial. (Please disregard the fact that WE don't pay attention to detial.)

• High level editing and general writing skills Desired.... My high-level editing skills wonder why you feel compelled to capitalize desired.

• (Name of company) is IS seeking a talented editor to join our team!  Is that our OUR team?

• National Aspahlt Pavement Association. I admit that most people, including sometimes me, have a difficult time spelling asphalt. But most people, including me, don't usually spell it this way.

Now that all is right with the world again, I feel beter. Dont you?

Grow old applying for jobs on the Internet

The Internet has made applying for jobs much easier, provided you are prepared to spend the equivalent of a work week filling out an online application. The government, in particular, is fond of lengthy job applications. This is to weed out people who may not have the drive and passion to stick with a demanding job. "Hmmm," the human resources person says as he or she reviews an application, "they made it up to the question about Are you able to focus for long periods of time? and then there are no more responses after that."


"Please..." you whimper by the time you are finished applying for one of these jobs. "Can't I just come in and fill out a paper application with my Bic pen?"

Sometimes the application process is so long, the job may be closed before you finish applying. "Thank you for applying to Company X," the screen will say. "We regret that the position you have just wasted one-fourth of your lifetime applying for is no longer available. But good news! Here are some other positions you may be interested in...please apply separately for each.... Have a nice day."


By the time you are finished with an application, you may no longer even want  the job. But if you are collecting unemployment during your job search, you are required to make a certain number of job contacts per week. Most likely, the one job you really don't want, but had to apply for in order to meet your contact quota, will be the one you will be called in to interview for. If this happens, it is time to be honest with the potential employer by explaining, truthfully, your situation:


"Uh, I'm really sorry, but I was in an accident just after I applied for your position, and I really can't work right now...I lost both arms, so I can't edit anymore...What? Can I come in for an interview? Well, I lost both legs in the accident, too, so I can't really get around too well...Would I be willing to work from ho--I'm sorry, I think my hearing is going. Also, my psychiatrist says I shouldn't get too stressed about anything....What was that? Would I be willing to fill out another online application...?"

Memory lane: Tread cautiously

Usually a spouse's early life is pretty much a mystery, unless you grew up down the street from him or her, in which case you may wonder if it really is a good idea to marry this person. 


I did not grow up down the street from the Hero, so I was eager to get a glimpse into his early life when we went through numerous boxes of pictures, his childhood drawings, and yearbooks that had been in his mom's garage. 


There was a booklet of several pages of drawings and text stapled together. It appeared to depict a maniacal serial killer named Bigger. The sort of thing a student would be referred to a counselor about. 


"This is rather disturbing," I said cautiously.


He looked at it. "Didn't you ever read Native Son?"


"You mean it's a book? You didn't make this up?"


"No, it's a book report."


"Thank goodness for that," I said. Then another concern hit me. "Does this author's spouse know he wrote this disturbing book?"


There was also a book of assignments the Hero had completed in an early grade. One assignment was a list of things he believed in, which I have re-created here because it shows his amazingly mature understanding of spiritual things.


Things I Believe In
1. I believe in God.
2. I believe in that He created the earth and us.
3. I believe in Jesus.
4. I believe that Jesus died on the cross for us.
5. I believe in Heaven.
6. I believe in Bigfoot.
7. I believe in the Loch Ness Monster.


Below the list was a sticker showing a peaceful lake. It was unclear whether this was the Hero's rendition of Heaven, or where he believed the Loch Ness Monster resided. There was also a big green question mark from the teacher next to I believe in Bigfoot, although none next to I believe in the Loch Ness Monster. Presumably by that point in the list, she was not at all surprised. She probably thought, Next time, I'll tell them to stick to five things they believe in.


Further glimpses of the Hero's life in junior high were observed in his yearbook. Fellow students wrote sweet sentiments conveying their wishes for him, such as Joe, I hope you have a rotten summer and Joe, you are nice but please do not sit behind me in music next year.


There were several childish drawings, the origin of which could not be entirely determined. 


"Did you always write To Joe on your own pictures?" I said, glancing through several drawings.


"Hmmm, maybe someone gave those to me."


I picked up a drawing showing a house, sun, trees, etc. To Joe, From Catherine, it said.


"Who is Catherine?" I said.


"Oh, look at this one," he said, hastily moving on to the next picture.


Maybe some things are better left as mysteries.

The last ride on the Hot Potato Train

The blog will be suspended for some time as we travel to say farewell to our dear Queen, mother of the Hero, who has embarked on her next great adventure, Heaven. She was a terrific matriarch, made great Belgian waffles, and we trust had a fantastic ride on the Hot Potato Train (we have no idea what that is, but she was fond of saying it in her blog comments). Queen, we love you and miss you already.

All I want for Christmas is...more

This year, owing to the loss of my job and because one of us believes frugality is next to godliness, we decided to adhere to a limit of two gifts each. 


"Does that mean two actual items, or two big boxes into which many items can be stuffed?" I said, just to clarify.


"Two items," the Hero said.


"I like the two big boxes idea."


"Two items."


So when he was asked by his parental unit what he got for Christmas, he informed her that he had received leather gloves and a kettle.


"That's it?" the parental unit exclaimed, clearly believing he had been cheated.


"See, I'll bet your mom would agree with the two big boxes idea," I said.


But thanks to another family member's generosity at Christmas, at least we no longer have to be concerned about entering our retirement years, which are still a few decades away, without an adequate supply of tea. The Hero, who put tea on his Christmas list with the thought that he would receive one box, is now the proud owner of approximately 13 tons of it. All the same kind. If there is ever a tea shortage, we'll be all set.


For my gift, the Hero took me to pick out a watch, although he was not convinced that a watch is a necessary thing to have.


"I don't have one," he said.


"Yes, and you're always asking me what time it is."


"Just use your phone," he said.


"I'm tired of having to dig out my phone whenever I need to know what time it is," I explained.


So we looked at watches. I put one on and asked how he liked it.


He peered closely at it.


"It's really small. Can you even see the time?"


"No, but it sure looks nice."


It's nice to have a watch again. Now if anyone asks the time, I can say, "It's 1:20. Or...wait...maybe it's 5 minutes 'til 4...No, wait...let me get my phone out...."

Car vs. brilliant humans

Each Christmas we engage in traditional holiday rituals while visiting family, such as setting off the car alarm on my brother's luxury SUV. He and his wife generously give us the use of this vehicle while we are in town, along with a note that says If this driver is stopped by law enforcement, I do not know her.


This car is a marvel of engineering. For instance, when the car is parked and the driver's side door is locked, it refuses to stay locked. Isn't that a great feature? This means that you, as a random stranger passing by, or any other large mammal with reasonable dexterity skills, can open the door. True, you will be greeted with a shrill alarm, but you will have plenty of time to steal something valuable, such as that note about law enforcement. 


We have been unable to ascertain, despite numerous scientific trials, the secret to keeping this door locked. Our last night driving it, we were determined to get it to stay locked. We believed it had something to do with the proximity of the remote opener to the door, so after we locked the door the Hero instructed me to walk away from the car with the remote, and he would open the door.


"Farther," he said after I had walked a short distance.


I walked some more.


"Keep going."


I walked some more.


"Okay, you don't have to go that far," he called.


"This is in case the cops come to investigate. I'll have a head start on running away."


Taking a deep breath, he opened the car door, and...WHEE! WHEE! WHEE! WHEE!


This is when I began to regret that I had left so much distance between me and the car, as I had to run all that way back to stop the alarm so the Hero would avoid being arrested. Sensing that the patrons in the restaurant were getting slightly annoyed after about the fortieth trial, we finally admitted defeat.


Upon our return home we were happy to get back to our own car in the airport garage. Good old dependable Saturn, we said. Always works like it's supposed to.


And the battery promptly sputtered and died.

Now serving...nothing with any food in it

Unlike many families, mine has never established a traditional Christmas meal involving the same foods each year, although in many years spaghetti has made an appearance. One problem is the number of food allergies among us, by which I mean we collectively seem to be allergic to anything considered to be food.


When we were together this Christmas, I therefore set out to do a scientific analysis of each individual's eating restrictions to determine a meal everyone could eat.


"Well, good news," I announced. "I found one thing everyone can have."


"Lasagna?" a family member asked hopefully.


"Water."


The Hero's characteristic unselfishness moved him to forgo his gluten restrictions during our trip, so as to "spare the cooks too much trouble," he said.


"Just do it slowly," I cautioned. "Start with something small and see how it affects you."


This is what I said. What the Hero heard was:


"HAVE A HEAPING PLATE OF APPLE PIE. FOR BREAKFAST."


And the Hero obeyed what he heard.


And decided he liked having apple pie for breakfast. 


"What are we having for dinner?" he asked.


"Water," I said.


"Tap water? filtered water? bottled water?"

"Hush," I said.


"Well...I think I'll have apple pie."

There will be a slight delay while we make up some reason for it

For all travelers flying in December, holiday tradition requires that some type of delay occur at the airport. Generally this requirement is met by inclement weather, but when the weather is not cooperating in an inclement manner, airline officials are pressured to make up some other delay.


In our case, the pilot kept making announcements explaining why, although we were all settled on the plane, the plane could not take off. First we were informed that we had a "loose seat" in the back of the plane, and we had to wait for maintenance to come and "bolt it down." Of course maintenance lived in another time zone, and had to fly in from another airport that was also making up various delays. In the meantime the rest of us, now suddenly worried about our seats, tried to find out, by surreptitiously rocking and shaking them, whether they were bolted to the floor.


When the seat was once again secured, the pilot announced that we were 4th in line on the runway. This good news was quickly followed by an amendment: "Uh, folks, I was misinformed here about when we're gonna take off. We're actually 54th in line on the runway."

This made us wonder whether the pilot may have been "misinformed" about other trivial matters, such as perhaps where we were headed ("We apologize that this plane is not going to Chicago, as previously stated, but is actually bound for Sweetgrass, Montana....uh, sorry, folks, we're not going to Sweetgrass, either. We're just going to taxi for a few hours and deposit you all at the far end of the terminal. Your luggage, however, may be picked up in Sweetgrass at your earliest convenience, though it may not contain the entire amount of Christmas gifts you originally packed. As always, thank you for flying Errorlines Express").


Even the wise men of old, though not traveling by plane, encountered many delays on their way to Bethlehem, although these delays were not recorded because the wise men had taken a vow to never reveal where they actually ended up the first time they set out (Bermuda). Luckily they had brought their Christmas gifts with them instead of sending them by cargo, or who knows where the gold, frankincense, and myrrh may have ended up (Greenland).


But the wise men, of course, did eventually make it to their destination, and so did we, and so, somewhat to our surprise, did our luggage. We try not to take the safe arrival of our luggage for granted, for holiday tradition also dictates that somewhere, someone's luggage is going to Bethlehem instead of Chicago.

No room for these travelers

'Twas the night of Christmas and all through the town
No parking at the airport was there to be found.
Like Mary and Joseph, turned away from each inn,
The Hero and Princess could not find a way in.


At last, on the edge of fear and dismay,
A garage they did find to put their car safely away. 
They rejoiced in their fortune, though the cost of parking per day
Made the Hero and Princess faint clean away.


Thus begins our holiday saga, a review of which will begin tomorrow, as this poem has used up all of the Princess's creative capacity for one day. Stay tuned!