Once upon a time the Hero and the Princess betook themselves to a fair mansion whilst on vacation. The mansion boasted lovely grounds, friendly horses, a fountain, a pool, a rabbit that sat in the circular driveway welcoming guests, and a former barn converted into lovely rooms in which guests could, in exchange for agreeing to pay the equivalent of their own mortgage and that of their closest 100 friends and neighbors, find refreshment and overnight accommodations.
It was a lovely room, with a view of the grounds and a skylight right over the bed. The skylight was perfectly placed to allow, come morning, the sun to shine cheerily right in the eyes of lazy sleepers.
After a long, hard day of shopping, eating, and gazing at the river in a nearby town, the Princess slipped into the bed under the skylight.
And never wanted to get out.
The pillow top, down comforter, and exquisite sheets all conspired to form a billowy softness that made the Princess feel as if she were floating among the clouds, or at least appearing in a Charmin commercial.
"Oh, Hero, I MUST have this bed!" she cried.
So in earnest was she that the Hero contemplated a plan to whisk away the bed to their own abode. But of course that would not have done at all, for he might have been caught stealing it, and sent to jail, and the Princess STILL wouldn't have her dream bed.
So she contented herself that he would research all the parts of the bed, and they would re-create it in their own castle. That is, just as soon as they bought a new frame, which they have been meaning to do. And new curtains. And paint the whole room. And...
In the meantime, the Princess falls asleep and dreams that she is back in the bed of billowiness. And this time, she is NOT awakened by sunlight streaming in through a skylight...
Monday, June 30, 2014
Monday, June 23, 2014
Needed: Male-friendly dishwasher
Dishwashers are obviously designed for women. I say this because if they were designed with men in mind, manufacturers would not bother to make silverware baskets with several little compartments, because no matter how logical it may be to have several little compartments, men who load the dishwasher use a grand total of: one.
And always, it is the compartment nearest the front of the dishwasher. The other compartments don't exist, being hidden from men's sight because they open the dishwasher only as much as they have to in order to drop something in.
Numerous times I have patiently explained to the Hero that bunching all the silverware together in one compartment means they might not all get clean, which is the intent of putting them in the dishwasher in the first place.
And he nods as if he is listening very carefully, and the next time I open the dishwasher I find that he apparently had been thinking about something totally nondishwasher related instead of listening, for there, in the first compartment, jammed like sardines, are all the forks, knives, and spoons we own.
My brother's wife nodded knowingly when I mentioned this. "He does the same thing," she said. "They're just too lazy to pull out the whole dishwasher and put some silverware in the back."
"But the silverware doesn't --"
"Get clean, I know," she said, shrugging.
This tendency apparently has little relation to a man's general habits of laziness or personal standards, however.. My brother does his own laundry because, as his wife explains, "he separates every single piece of clothing when it comes out of the washer before it goes in the dryer, and I don't do that." So we are left to believe that the dishwasher anomaly seems more related to maleness than to personality traits.
Recently I opened our dishwasher to find, not unexpectedly, the front compartment jammed with utensils and the rest of the silverware basket completely empty. I pulled several pieces out and spoke to them, within earshot of the Hero. "We have some lovely accommodations here in the middle and the back if you would care to try staying there...it's much less crowded than that little room you've been jammed into."
"Why, thank you!" The family of forks and knives and auntie spoons said as I noisily spread them out among the compartments.
"This is much better!" they all said.
But this was lost on the Hero, which was perhaps just as well, as he can truthfully answer "no" should a white-coated man ever ask him if his wife talks to inanimate objects.
To appeal to men, dishwashers should be designed with a little chute at the top, similar to a library drop chute, into which guys could simply drop each utensil. From there it would be automatically sorted into appropriately sized baskets.
But this is unlikely to happen anytime soon. So we women will continue to spread out the utensils that have been crammed into the dishwasher -- and, occasionally, talk to them.
And always, it is the compartment nearest the front of the dishwasher. The other compartments don't exist, being hidden from men's sight because they open the dishwasher only as much as they have to in order to drop something in.
Numerous times I have patiently explained to the Hero that bunching all the silverware together in one compartment means they might not all get clean, which is the intent of putting them in the dishwasher in the first place.
And he nods as if he is listening very carefully, and the next time I open the dishwasher I find that he apparently had been thinking about something totally nondishwasher related instead of listening, for there, in the first compartment, jammed like sardines, are all the forks, knives, and spoons we own.
My brother's wife nodded knowingly when I mentioned this. "He does the same thing," she said. "They're just too lazy to pull out the whole dishwasher and put some silverware in the back."
"But the silverware doesn't --"
"Get clean, I know," she said, shrugging.
This tendency apparently has little relation to a man's general habits of laziness or personal standards, however.. My brother does his own laundry because, as his wife explains, "he separates every single piece of clothing when it comes out of the washer before it goes in the dryer, and I don't do that." So we are left to believe that the dishwasher anomaly seems more related to maleness than to personality traits.
Recently I opened our dishwasher to find, not unexpectedly, the front compartment jammed with utensils and the rest of the silverware basket completely empty. I pulled several pieces out and spoke to them, within earshot of the Hero. "We have some lovely accommodations here in the middle and the back if you would care to try staying there...it's much less crowded than that little room you've been jammed into."
"Why, thank you!" The family of forks and knives and auntie spoons said as I noisily spread them out among the compartments.
"This is much better!" they all said.
But this was lost on the Hero, which was perhaps just as well, as he can truthfully answer "no" should a white-coated man ever ask him if his wife talks to inanimate objects.
To appeal to men, dishwashers should be designed with a little chute at the top, similar to a library drop chute, into which guys could simply drop each utensil. From there it would be automatically sorted into appropriately sized baskets.
But this is unlikely to happen anytime soon. So we women will continue to spread out the utensils that have been crammed into the dishwasher -- and, occasionally, talk to them.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Dads' words of wisdom
On Father's Day this year, the Hero and I honored our fathers by remembering some of the many words of wisdom they passed along while we were growing up. Things that helped us mature, like "Eat your carrots. They'll put hair on your chest."
This was uttered -- numerous times -- by MY father, not the Hero's, which makes one wonder what he was thinking. It was probably, "It wasn't MY idea to have four daughters and one son."
The Hero's memories of his father's sayings mostly seem to revolve around things that were not altogether appropriate for young children, which perhaps explains why he remembers them vividly.
The Hero's father also enjoyed quoting poetry, particularly on evenings the family had some variety of beans for dinner. I believe one of his father's favorites, later recited by his mother as well, included the words "magical fruit" and "toot," among others.
My father was fond of using words from other languages. He was always a bit fuzzy about WHICH language any of the words was from, and this knowledge has apparently been lost to mankind with his passing. "Weecha" was one such word, used mostly during our numerous family road trips and roughly translating to "Look!" This indicated some wondrous natural sight that we should gaze upon out the car window, such as a beautiful valley view or a sunset. Or it indicated that my father wanted our attention diverted while he took the last peanut butter cookie.
A Female Relative has endeavored, since my father's passing, to ascertain where "weecha" came from. Was it Romanian, which his mother spoke? German, his father's language?
My mother's opinion was that "he made it up."
My family spent a great deal of time in the car, and many of my father's sayings originated there. When we would cross a state line, he would yell, "We are, you aren't!" to indicate that split second when the passengers in the front seat had arrived in the new state, but those in the back had not. He was very competitive, my father, and any front passengers -- he was always one of them -- WOULD make it into the new state first.
It makes me wonder if, when he crossed into Heaven, he said, "We're here -- you come too!" And -- this I'm sure of -- "Weecha!"
This was uttered -- numerous times -- by MY father, not the Hero's, which makes one wonder what he was thinking. It was probably, "It wasn't MY idea to have four daughters and one son."
The Hero's memories of his father's sayings mostly seem to revolve around things that were not altogether appropriate for young children, which perhaps explains why he remembers them vividly.
The Hero's father also enjoyed quoting poetry, particularly on evenings the family had some variety of beans for dinner. I believe one of his father's favorites, later recited by his mother as well, included the words "magical fruit" and "toot," among others.
My father was fond of using words from other languages. He was always a bit fuzzy about WHICH language any of the words was from, and this knowledge has apparently been lost to mankind with his passing. "Weecha" was one such word, used mostly during our numerous family road trips and roughly translating to "Look!" This indicated some wondrous natural sight that we should gaze upon out the car window, such as a beautiful valley view or a sunset. Or it indicated that my father wanted our attention diverted while he took the last peanut butter cookie.
A Female Relative has endeavored, since my father's passing, to ascertain where "weecha" came from. Was it Romanian, which his mother spoke? German, his father's language?
My mother's opinion was that "he made it up."
My family spent a great deal of time in the car, and many of my father's sayings originated there. When we would cross a state line, he would yell, "We are, you aren't!" to indicate that split second when the passengers in the front seat had arrived in the new state, but those in the back had not. He was very competitive, my father, and any front passengers -- he was always one of them -- WOULD make it into the new state first.
It makes me wonder if, when he crossed into Heaven, he said, "We're here -- you come too!" And -- this I'm sure of -- "Weecha!"
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Ages and stages
In an effort to make their cities more attractive to females, who apparently avoid them, officials In South Korea have embarked on a "women-friendly" campaign. Seoul now boasts women-only parking spaces, larger than typical spaces and painted pink. The thinking here is that women either a) drive larger vehicles or b) need a lot of space in which to maneuver their cars, and that c) pink is a universal color beloved by women everywhere or d) the pink ensures that male drivers will avoid those spots like the plague.
Possibly options a, b, c, and d are all true. Whether women or their vehicles require more space than usual to park, however, depends on their stage of life, because the amount of space and stuff one needs is directly correlated with one's age. We have created a handy chart to illustrate this progression:
Babies, or Very Tiny Persons: They weigh, on average, in the vicinity of 7 to 10 pounds at birth. But by law, the things they need to get around -- car seat, baby jogger, portable crib, baby carrier, everyday stroller, weekend stroller, traveling stroller, shopping stroller, gazing at other babies stroller, waiting in line stroller, going to the mailbox stroller, etc. -- must represent at least 19 times the body volume of the Very Tiny Person.
Slightly Less Tiny Persons: Toddlers require less equippage to travel than infants, but first you have to catch them.
Preschoolers: Travel requirements are minimal, but you must be prepared for the moment when their energy suddenly and unexpectedly gives out (generally when you are an hour's trek from home), and they must be conveyed by an adult.
Teen girls: Not unlike the Very Tiny Person, they need vehicles for travel to school, basketball practice, mall, movies, girlfriend's house, other girlfriend's house, 52 more girlfriends' houses, etc.
Teen boys: This group is most efficiently conveyed everywhere via their beds, as otherwise they must be surgically detached from it each morning. Detachable wheels are key.
Young families: Vehicles popular with this group provide, on average, 120 sq. ft. per person, and STILL the kids fight over space.
Empty nesters: initially they need much less than Young Families, at least before grandkids along.
Retirees: They have about the same space requirements as preschoolers, but unlike that group, can generally make it to their napping place without another adult's assistance. Generally.
We predict that parking spaces for each of these stages could appear in the near future. If not not here, maybe in South Korea.
Possibly options a, b, c, and d are all true. Whether women or their vehicles require more space than usual to park, however, depends on their stage of life, because the amount of space and stuff one needs is directly correlated with one's age. We have created a handy chart to illustrate this progression:
Babies, or Very Tiny Persons: They weigh, on average, in the vicinity of 7 to 10 pounds at birth. But by law, the things they need to get around -- car seat, baby jogger, portable crib, baby carrier, everyday stroller, weekend stroller, traveling stroller, shopping stroller, gazing at other babies stroller, waiting in line stroller, going to the mailbox stroller, etc. -- must represent at least 19 times the body volume of the Very Tiny Person.
Slightly Less Tiny Persons: Toddlers require less equippage to travel than infants, but first you have to catch them.
Preschoolers: Travel requirements are minimal, but you must be prepared for the moment when their energy suddenly and unexpectedly gives out (generally when you are an hour's trek from home), and they must be conveyed by an adult.
Teen girls: Not unlike the Very Tiny Person, they need vehicles for travel to school, basketball practice, mall, movies, girlfriend's house, other girlfriend's house, 52 more girlfriends' houses, etc.
Teen boys: This group is most efficiently conveyed everywhere via their beds, as otherwise they must be surgically detached from it each morning. Detachable wheels are key.
Young families: Vehicles popular with this group provide, on average, 120 sq. ft. per person, and STILL the kids fight over space.
Empty nesters: initially they need much less than Young Families, at least before grandkids along.
Retirees: They have about the same space requirements as preschoolers, but unlike that group, can generally make it to their napping place without another adult's assistance. Generally.
We predict that parking spaces for each of these stages could appear in the near future. If not not here, maybe in South Korea.
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