Tag: Word of the Day Challenge

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Meeeeooooowww?

Person sleeping in bed with two playful cats, bedside tables with lamp, clock showing 7:03, and plants by window.

I leave the bedroom door open a crack at night. For the cats. I’ve learned that Marcus and Sabrina can combine their scratches on the door with soft meowings – let us out, or let us in. So it’s easier to leave the door open, a crack to allow peaceful travel to and fro. Call it a conflict reduction strategy.

Our house was built in 1900, and the heating system is spare, lean, and inadequate. The oil company complains that I intend to pauperize them because I purchase so little oil. Most of the heat is provided by the wood stove, and the open door allows the heat from the stove in the living room into the bedroom. At night, I can retire and leave the two cats and the dog curled up in front of the woodstove, basking.

By about five in the morning, the dog, Max, has gone to sleep in my daughter’s room, and the cats have crept into mine. About six, the wake-up routine starts. Marcus walks up the length of my spine, “Meorwooo?” No response. Ten minutes later, Sabrina decides to up the ante by readjusting my arm so she can cuddle and emit some very high-volume purrs. I roll over. At six thirty, the situation has become dire, and breakfast will be late unless he is awake.

All the stops are now out. There are loud purrs in my ear, a cat walking up and down my spine, and delicate “accu-claw” to sensitive body parts. I eventually stir, go to the bathroom ( followed by an entourage of pets- “make sure he doesn’t go back to bed!”), and stagger down to the kitchen.

What have family members done for me recently? Gotten me up for their breakfast.

Daily writing prompt
Describe a positive thing a family member has done for you.
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It’s Kind of Fishy

Woman eating soup at a diner booth with rainy window and open sign in background

After the death of my road buddy Bill, I continued wandering alone. A fancy word for this is solivagent. Like Pius Itinerant, I like to toss these words around because they seem so much more cultured and eloquent than bum. But It’s all the same thing. Now food, as in where to get a good quantity, and quality at a reasonable price, is always on a road traveler’s mind.

There was a little place in Rising Sun, Maryland, that I liked to hit in the mornings for their breakfast specials, and let’s face it, living as I did, highway diners were not an epicurean four stars in the Michelin Guide, but if you did the same route often enough, you knew the places to avoid.

As I neared the end of my locational insolvency, so to speak, I focused on the state of Maine as being among the most interesting places to spend time in. From the Alagash to Bangor, and all the little communities along the coast, I found a place that I thought I could plan a future in. And, being that I had been raised with lots of seafood on the table at home, it was easy to find tasty familiar and unfamiliar seafood in Maine.

Eventually, I wound up focusing on the city of Portland. There were a number of friends living there, a few small coffeehouses, and it was quiet, clean, and unlike big cities like New York, smog and congestion-free. I soon also found a few restaurants that I could habitually retire to that were reliably good. Two of them are still open and serving good food.

My absolute favorite is Gilbert’s. It’s a chowder house without a lot of great pretensions, just top-notch seafood. Located in the Old Port, I rediscovered it when I was doing boat shows and selling my marine carvings. It was like coming home. Their fish chowder is not just fish soup, it’s a real chowder.

The second place is Becky’s. My first acquaintance with it was when it was the sort of place frequented by fishermen having really early in the morning chow before heading out on the boats. Good and unpretentious food. The food is still good, but unless you catch the early fishing crowd, you’ll contend these days with the tourists who’ve heard the stories about it.

I guess I like the connections to the past. Sitting in the back with my eyes on the door, just in case old friends…or old enemies come in.

Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite restaurant?
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Big Plans?

Big plans for that career? Get the degree, go for the Ph.D, professorship and, oh yes, the adoration of your students! Sounds familiar, a sort of long-range plan that maps out your future. But as my dad, Nicholas Carreras, always said, have a backup trade or career just in case.

You can be tempted by industry numbers, advisors, or popular articles in the newspaper, that you have a lock on success…until you don’t. It’s happening now in high tech as AI is disrupting that and other employment sectors. Lots of our friends and relatives are facing uncertain futures.

One of the things that has made the sense of panic worse is the ten-year plan mentality. Personally, I think that aspirational goals are great. As Browning indicated,”a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, Or what’s a heaven for?” But having your future mapped out in a sort of crystalline rigidity can hamper us if we hit a blip, or interruption in our glorious march to the completion of the ten-year plan.

The Back up

I hit career interruptions several times. Backup skills and a willingness to just “work” at what was offered played an important role in getting myself back on track. After grad school, I was back in the operating room as a surgical technician for two years before finding a job as an anthropologist. When Bill Clinton “reinvented Government” and my government job disappeared, I found myself moving packages at United Parcel Service. I eventually started two small businesses while at UPS, and one of them turned into a twenty-three-year career in video and public access television. The other is, as you may know, a marine woodcarver.

Interestingly, while at UPS, I met many people just like myself. Folks who used the part-time jobs at UPS as springboards to other careers, jobs, and business opportunities. After all, at that time, UPS offered full-time benefits to its partners. Being that small businesses often don’t pay health care, pension benefits, vacation, and sick time, this was a winning proposition. So yes, our jobs were sweaty, dirty, and required a strong back. To the perfect ten-year plan types, we were making dirty money for a dirty job. To those who’d say that, I’d reply that if you have a family, you do what you can to support them, and you look for the loose alternative.

Flexibility

I think the idea of the ten-year plan is great. Just don’t expect the universe to behave as though your plan is its priority. A sensei of mine in martial arts used to criticize students for “standing on their skeleton” – just standing there flat-footed, not ready for anything. He wanted students to be poised, ready to react, and situationally alert. Too many long-range plans are uni-dimensional, they are “standing on their skeleton” and not poised for change, or for that matter opportunity.

Plan, but plan wisely as though change and opportunity were not just a possibility, but an eventuality.

Daily writing prompt
Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
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Interesting?

Query most people who’ve led an “interesting” lifestyle, and they’ll sigh and say they prefer their current lot of peacefulness. They’ve had it with lots of upsets, curious interruptions in the flow of normality, relocations, challenging romantic entanglements, and even some spots of violence or mental dislocation. I kid you not!

No, I’d prefer to laugh whenever my dog has a squirrel treed, or my female cat Sabrina turns into an actress to convince me that breakfast was totally inadequate, and she needs a second one. I also revel in the lack of stress I feel when I’m traveling the interstate, and remember when I hitched that particular area back when.

No, my wife, children, two cats, the dog, and my garden form the core of my daily existence and bring me happiness. The old “interesting” stuff? It can stay safely in the rear-view mirror as I drive away.

Daily writing prompt
What are 5 everyday things that bring you happiness?
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Do IT Over?

I was, depending on how you view it, lucky or unlucky enough to have two high school experiences. I came away with two very different outcomes and perspectives from each one. But each had life-changing effects on me.

But the overall lesson I came away with is that you shouldn’t let one bad experience stop you from trying again.

Do Over

In the New York City school system of the 1960’s I was sidetracked, warehoused, and pretty much abandoned. Years later, after my Pius Itinerancy, I went to a “Prep School” that catered to late learners. Many of us were former military service, and or people like me. My G.I. benefits covered the cost; I could not have afforded the tuition otherwise.

At first, I was leery of the experience. But after my English teacher encouraged me to write some semi-fictional material on my “exploits,” I realized I was getting a first-class opportunity to do over an important part of my life. It continued with a math teacher who exposed me to geometry. When I expressed to him that I hated math, he smiled, laughed, and told me that geometry really wasn’t math, and why didn’t I give it a try? A few years later, as I began toying with navigation, I was thankful for the non-math math experiences.

My teachers at Shaw Prep did more than teach. They encouraged, cheered me on, and offered a bridge to college studies. When I finally walked into a college classroom, I was prepared and confident.

We should all have high school experiences like that.

Daily writing prompt
Describe something you learned in high school.
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Talent?

Growing up, I didn’t shine at my school with my great inborn talent. Nor did my teachers look in awe at me as though I were a vessel of potential greatness. In fact, the opinion was that the area in which I was likely to excel was being a ne’er-do-well. Through about age thirteen, I did nothing to dissuade anyone from that impression.

A Seed

Then, almost by accident, my father planted a seed. He was the superintendent of the building in which we lived. We had the basement apartment near the storage areas, the huge boilers for heating the building, and his shop.

Our well-to-do residents left behind tons of things when they moved. This abandonment of goods was common, and, being that the people who lived upstairs were fairly affluent, some of the junk was pretty good stuff. My father had ways of monetizing these goods. It was presorted into categories: sellable scrap metal, items that could be sold to collectors or peddlers, used clothes, and then trash.

It was out of the junk pile one day that my father plucked a battered Stella guitar. That evening, he handed it to me and reminded me that my grandfather had played Spanish guitar, and maybe I could do something with it.

That guitar was the seed. Over the following weeks, I tormented the building with random, non-musical screeches, hums, plinks, and wails. Someone eventually suggested that I go to a music store and get a book on playing the guitar. Taking some money I had earned from sweeping around the building, I went downtown and sought advice on a book to teach me fundamentals. The clerk suggested The Folksingers Guitar Guide, by Jerry Silverman.

Onward

Over the next few months, the random noises turned into melodies, and I even began writing and performing scurrilous songs about my teachers. I eventually moved on to performing these on stage at school programs. Teachers who’d accused me of being without talent were forced to acknowledge that I had a small amout of musical ability. But they quickly qualified their positive statement to include the fact that I was still a ne’er-do-well.

I eventually went on to perform in Greenshich Village, and at various coffeehouses and other sorts of venues wherever my Pius Itinerancy took me.

No. I never made a big killing out of performance, and I never became a great guitarist. But that first, very awful guitar, taught me a basic lesson; You can teach yourself almost anything with application, practice, books, and the occasional lessons from other people who will abet your interest and dedication.

You can, and indeed must, make something of yourself.

Daily writing prompt
Describe one positive change you have made in your life.
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Manual of Arms

I found it after searching in the 1940 Bluejackets Manual in my maritime collection. It’s not something that I refer to very often. However, I have it on hand when I need to look up obscurities, which was one of those times. I had made some stupid comments that upset my wife. I mentioned that, in punishment, I should do the 99-count manual of arms 99 times. She had no idea what I was talking about, but appreciated that I was apologizing.

The Manual

Later on, I thought about my comment. The Manual of Arms was something we trained on in Navy Boot Camp. It was also the favorite punishment assignment if you goofed up. Report to the gymnasium and join the other jerks in a rather grueling 99 times repetition of the manual of arms. Just do it.

You did this punishment drill with your trusty 1903 Springfield rifle. You had its serial number blazoned into memory because if a petty officer asked you for it and you gave the wrong number, you’d do the entire thing over 99 more times. If you dropped it, you slept with it in your bunk. Ugh. I don’t know if modern boot camp is up to these standards, but if it is, anyone who’s gone through it can relate.

So, why did this come to mind as a punishment for an intemperate comment? Because I was assigned to this duty so often. Yes, it is true. I was less than an adept sailor. All my superiors agreed that Carreras was a real “drifty shit” screw-up. He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t keep his mouth from spouting out some unwelcome opinion about why the Navy sucked. It mattered not the least that his assessment could be confirmed as accurate about the chow, how poorly the uniforms fit, or other things. But you weren’t allowed to say that with the hearing of “those that matter.”

Preoccupation

After a while, I could do the manual of arms and think placidly about other things. If they had the music on, it was almost pleasant.

Anyway, I’m standing in the kitchen feeling penitent about my comments; I grab a broom and start the Manual of Arms, “Come to ready first count…come to ready second count…come to the ready third count, and so on. I did about ten reps when I realized I wasn’t in the shape I was in my teens.

Doing Well While Doing Good!

But I can see some definite advantages to this as an aerobic exercise. So why don’t you try it – “down and forward…forward and up…up and shoulders…side pushes”, and on through side twists. It’s a perfect complete physical workout. If you need to intensify your daily punishment…errr…I mean, workout, this is it!

I think I’ll start an exercise class; the uniform is bell-bottom dungarees, a chambray work shirt, a sailor’s gob hat, and an old broom handle (1903 Springfield is optional, except for the Second Amendment enthusiasts).
OK, let’s all try it in order now. If you can’t remember the serial number on your broom, you’ll start over! On the first count!

Let’s see. A Tik Tok video. A longer follow-up YouTube video on how to do it. And, of course, a follow-up Amazon book. I might make something of my Navy experiences after all. What a surprise that’d be to my Recruit Commanding Officers!

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Sharp!

Look! You can see the floor! Yes! The annual Spring Clean Up of the shop is about two-thirds done. You can see the floor! A rolling tool chest (out of view to the left) now stores many tools in a manner in which they can be found when needed. It’s revolutionary. There were three brands of tool chests to choose from. For me, the choice was made by how much horizontal space was available. See all the way in the back, the shelf with books and folders on it? Those are books, plans and drawings that I frequently pull out for reference.

What book do I often reach for on the shelf? It’s one of the smallest books on that shelf but is perhaps the most important. This is no mockery! It’s not much larger than pocketbook size, but it has instructions on sharpening almost every tool I’d need in my work as a woodcarver.

Most of the tools are fairly straightforward for sharpening. They are your basic knives and gouges. But then you get into the weeds with specialty tools that are bent and skewed, or have other special requirements. There are many books like this available. I think the one I have is simply Sharpening Woodworking Tools, and if you work with wood, you can save yourself much frustration by picking one up. There is an absolutely incredible variety of steel, edge types, tool shapes, tool sharpening jigs, and approaches to sharpening.

Need to sharpen a pair of scissors, plane blades, serrated-edge knife, scalpel, or other esoteric device, one of these books will help.

Daily writing prompt
What book could you read over and over again?
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Better, or Worse?

Daily writing prompt
What animals make the best/worst pets?
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Shhhshh! That’s the sort of question that will really get you between a cat and a dog in our house. It’s definitely not polite parlor discussion material. Please take a safe approach and only discuss clearly poor choices for pets, such as venomous snakes or carrion-eating birds. Conjure up ranks of images from science fiction, but whatever you do, don’t start animated discussions comparing cats and dogs!

Back in the old days of my cat Clancy J Bumps, known as the Grey Menace, you’d have been in for a blood-letting, clawing, and hours of stalking through the house. Then there was Smidgen, our double-pawed, double-clawed black kitty. As you walked by, she’d swat you with that double fist full of needle-sharp claws, just to remind you. Our Tuxedo cat Xenia avoided violence for imperial disdain, and the reminder that her ancestors had been Gods in Egypt. So there.

These days, we have a detente between our cats and the dog. It’s not so much that one or the other is better, but that the current selection of superior Cattle dog and Bengal cats offers a superior, more elite team to rue those wayward and unruly humans.

Ohhhh, and don’t forget it!

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Make the Games Great Again!

Daily writing prompt
What Olympic sports do you enjoy watching the most?
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Two years ago I posted this response to this prompt, and I pretty much stand by it. As currently constituted, I find the games pretty boring.

Great Games

Sportswise, I am a fly in the ointment. I am the one gnashing my teeth at the thought of a Thanksgiving spent watching American football or the person most likely to fling away the most recent sports magazine—swimsuit issue or not. So why should it be any different from the highly commercialized, overly hyped Olympics?
Want to win me back to the Games? OK, I Have a plan. How about adding some innovative stuff from the broader world of sports? How about marathon ballroom dancing, tossing the caber, saber dancing, jello pit wrestling, great pumpkin kayaking, or my favorite, fireball soccer? By the way, fireball soccer is played with a flaming kerosene-soaked coconut and bare feet—not for the faint of heart!
Yes, the Olympics are boring. We should make them great again. Get out the cabers and coconuts!

With time to think on this, we might find other sorts of fun things too: bolster the stature of the games internationally by having truth-telling competitions between teams of politicians – great entertainment – catch them in lies and score points on how they dance around half-truths and walk on eggshells without cracking them.

What sort of suggestions do you have? Remember, absurdity counts!