Manual Woes

There is nothing I dislike more than having to read a manual. It's probably not that big a deal, but when this issue comes up, it's a biggie for me.  Most times, I don't have to read any manuals unless it becomes absolutely necessary--at which point, I become thoroughly traumatized.

Hubby and I have devised a system (of sorts) over the years--Hubby does the assembling and fixing. When needed, I read these folded bits of paper or booklets with the instructions and important information in sixteen different languages. Sometimes the assembling instructions are quite detailed, but stated in an unique mode of English that defies interpretation, especially if the article is made in some place like Outer Bhurkistan. And conversely, there are the English instructions and information that are quite sparing in words, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

The worse is when the instructions comes in pictures, sometimes hand-drawn.  I know, I know--it's suppose to supersede sixteen translations when pictures are assume to be universal. Hubby has a fantastic grasp of what is needed to be done as he can imagine which part fits where. However, I can never figure out the pictures, no matter which way I turn the diagram.

The one and only time I didn't mind reading the manual was when we were assembling my desk.  This project had a perfect manual. The instructions clearly showed every nut, bolt, screw and washer included. Each piece and part was labeled clearly. The desk was packaged to be assembled in sections that had to be done in a specific order. It was a "dream" project and one that went smoothly and frazzled-free.  Best of all, the instructions were written in clear, concise and real English. To this day, I'm still using the desk which has held up well.  But I digress.

Manuals were never part of my genetic setup. I'm the type of person who likes to watch how various stuff is put together and then do it. My brain does not absorb the printed words or pictures of a do-it-yourself manual. I always figured the good Lord did not put me on this Earth to nut-n-bolt stuff unless it was something edible. And in that situation, I can out-perform anyone.

But it's not just popping the pieces together in the how-to section. It's the other part of the manual that explains the what-for's, why-for's and where-for's. I really don't need to scare myself knowing these things, since the only time I'll dive for the manual is when something goes terribly wrong. And hopefully, Troubleshooting will give me the answer or the 1-800 number for Customer Assistance. For now, I'll just stack all these booklets and bits of paper together and file them under "M" for manuals.

Pass It On

In this century of disposables, fast foods and Google, it is so easy to accept the conveniences and take it all for granted. But you know what?--the simple day-to-day courtesies can just as easily fall to the roadside. Genuine smiles and a few sincere words cost us nothing and should be passed on more often.

Sometimes I like to gift the full mega-watt smile to someone with the sternest or the most grumpiest face.  You know, that's the smile where the eyes and face truly reflect the joy you are feeling and want to share. And when you pass Mr. Sourpuss, you give him eye contact and a happy nod as if to say, "Hey, I hope you're having a great day too!" and keep walking.
But if you ever glance back, you will see a most astonishing phenomena ninety-nine percent of the time. Mr. Sourpuss suddenly feels so good at receiving this mega-watt smile from a total stranger, he passes it on to the next lucky recipient.  Mission accomplished. At least, I hope that's what happens--I like to think so.

Department stores have stream-lined their services a lot. Certain "Customer Service" centres (or cashiers) are placed strategically throughout the store allowing customers to pay for their purchases wherever they happen to be, unless of course, it hits coffee breaks or meal breaks. The hot weather, coupled with the frustrations of long line-ups due to a shortage of "Opened" cashiers, can make the gentlest of customers, the snarliest. The unfortunate cashiers who must deal with all of this definitely need "combat pay." It's easy for us to gift them a genuine smile and a few words of appreciation, acknowledging their stressful day. But more often than not, people like to add more stress by acting like total jerks.

Not only the simple courtesies of "please" and "thank you" but a note or card of appreciation for a gift received or a job well done is worth more in good-will than any monetary value. Most young kids today are more likely to email or text their appreciation--snail-mail doesn't apply in their electronic techie world. If you do have nieces, nephews or grandkids who do this, be thankful their parents are teaching them the niceties of life. Kids who take the time to write or text a few words of thanks will always have that advantage of knowing Life's simple courtesies. These kids will be caring, considerate and kind, treating others the way they, themselves like to be treated. These are the kids who will keep the legacy going--passing along mega-watt smiles and kind words where needed.

Have you smiled at someone today?

Oh, Spam

The other day, an article on Spam caught my eye--that's Spam, the canned meat, not spam, the unwanted internet junk mail. Later that evening, the local television mews anchor-person briefly mentioned the resurgence of the WWII food ration, Spam.  Today, I picked up my mystery novel and one of the characters was pan-frying a slice of Spam with his eggs.  Wow, I have now encountered Spam three times in the last 24-hours. I had to find out more about this amazing food product that has grabbed my attention and been around for the last 75-years. Other brands have disappeared over the last years or have merged with giant conglomerates, yet Spam lives on.

Spam was officially launched as a trademark by Homel on May 11, 1937.  According to its website, www.spam.com, all fifty states in America sells Spam with Hawaii being the biggest consumer of this ham/pork shoulder meat product. The K-rations the military provided its soldiers durin g WWII included the familiar rectangular tins. In fact, the soldiers felt they were eating Spam at every meal, despite the military cooks doing their best to be inventive. Spam and other foods were shipped to Allied countries as part of the lend-lease program. Ironically, soldiers in Europe, hoping to escape Spam by going for a nice restaurant meal, would still find Spam on the menu!

Is Spam healthy for you? According to the Spam website, "one 12-ounce can contains six servings.  A single serving has 16 grams of fat including 6-grams of saturated fat.  This single serving of Spam also contains 33% of your daily recommended sodium as well asd a hefty dose of cholesterol."  A generous Spam serving would not be a healthy idea if low-salt, low cholesterol foods are suppose to be on your menu.

I checked my local supermarkets the other day to see if Spam is on their shelves.  It still is.  Happy 75th Birthday, Spam. I missed your official birthday in May but you know what?  I really think a Time Capsule for this century should have had a couple of tins of Spam enclosed.  Maybe it did.  We may be reduced to healthy dehydrated miniaturized foods before this 21st century is over and it would be nice to show the Future why a can of pressurized ham and pork shoulder, loaded with fat and salt, tasted so darn good a hundred years ago!

Frivolous and Frothy

I've been told my blog pieces are "frothy," whatever that means. I think my critics mean it's quick to read, easily absorbed and fast to forget!  Yep, I think "seriousblogger" felt my last blog regarding my enthusiastic read of "The Innocent" by David Baldacci, was too frivolous to even consider as a serious book review, not that I had intended it to be a book review. I merely reported on a very enjoyable thriller--a riveting Baldacci attention-grabber of a book.
I liked it.

As for frothy, I enjoy writing down my random thoughts or opinions on various topics and putting it online for anyone interested in reading it. Current events in the newspapers or on radio/television, even a chance comment made by someone or perhaps an observation could trigger a creative urge--or maybe not.

Writing is often based on observations, chance comments, an unforgettable experience. How many of us have incorporated something we have encountered into our writing?

Anyway, thank you "seriousblogger" for your comment. It's nice to know several people are taking the time to read this blog. Feedback is always important, good or bad. If constructive criticism is taken in the spirit it is intended, it can make the difference between a writer and a good writer who wants to be better. I want to be a better good writer.

I Love You David Baldacci

I love David Baldacci. His books never disappoint and these include his Camel Club series with their unofficial ex-military leader, Oliver Stone plus his Sean King/Michelle Maxwell series and all the "stand-alones." Whatever David sets his imagination to, his books deliver a darn good plot, tough but believable characters and lots of "hit-em-hard-knock-em-out-and-run-like-hell" action.

David's latest book, "The Innocent" is the story of Will Robie, a hitman employed by the U.S. government and a 14-year old foster care run-away named Julie Getty. When Will refused to kill his designated target and used his own backup plan to escape a trap, that was the day his world and Julie Getty's collided explosively. Someone is trying to kill them--Who? Why?

I love books that grab you by the eyeballs and holds you in its clutches. "The Innocent" is definitely one of those page-turners that keeps you glued to your chair.  As you press on to the final pages and the shocker it holds, who cares if you have a permanent crick in your neck and shopping bags under your eyes. You had to burn the midnight oil to find out the 'who' and the 'why.' 

I love you David Baldacci. I bet you'll write a future book featuring Will Robie again. And, I know it'll be just as exciting, thought-provoking, timely and fast-paced as all your other books. I'm looking forward to your next one.

Technical What?

Technology sucks! Yes, you heard me. I'll say it again. Technology sucks big-time. And, I'll tell you why.

The other night, just as my husband and I were settling in to enjoy a program we had recorded two nights ago--this part of technology is good--the t.v. screen went dark and the dreaded message of "No signal" appeared in the lower right corner. We didn't know that this was one of those irrational times when the telephone/cable company goes through a process called "initialization," affecting everyone's reception.
No message from the cable company appeared on screen to explain what was happening, so resorting to pressing various buttons on the remote which didn't do anything, I had to do what I always hate to do--phone the company for help, specifically "technical support." I hate this next part with a passion.

A computerized voice offers up a menu with seven choices, numbered 1 to 7. In the past, as soon as I heard my choice, I would immediately press that number and be connected. This doesn't happen anymore. You are doomed to listen to the full menu before you are allowed to make your selection. And, if you are two seconds too slow, a cheerful voice will gleefully say, "I'm sorry. I did not hear your selection" and proceed to give you the complete menu again. After the third unsuccessful attempt at punching in the proper number and being ignored, I finally resorted to yelling my choice. My spouse just sighed and muttered, "You're yelling at a machine" but miraculously, the voice response worked!

Successfully connected to "Technical Support" doesn't necessarily mean you get instant assistance. You are now doomed to listen to elevator music while put on hold forever. You can't hang up because this would mean phoning back and being on an even longer "hold." So, I held on while my smart hubby crawled behind the t.v., unplugged the cable and replugged it back.  Immediately, the screen came to life just as a real person finally came on the phone.

The lesson learned is that the pull-the-plug-and-put-it-back method works 99% of the time. If it doesn't work, then you really have a problem requiring "technical support."
Good luck in your mission. . .

Summer

Last week, Summer lingered for more than a day. We enjoyed the rare two days with its gentle breezes, azure sky with a wisp of white clouds, bees flitting happily among the lavender and roses, birds chirping noisily inside the neighbour's thick leafy bush--the one we dubbed the "Condo Bush." I always visualized at least five bird families nesting in there.

Victoria, BC. on the West Coast, has always been known as the "Florida" of Canada because of its warm mild weather in the winter. It is also known as the "Garden City" and for its annual "Spring Flower Count" each year. But this year, Victoria's reputation has suffered. The City's normally mild Winter had been extremely cold, stormy and wet. Spring finally arrived and Summer--well, I think we're still waiting.

Summer has been a teasing flirt. One day, she's hot and sweaty, teasing with short shorts, barely there tops, barbecues, beaches and beer.  The next day, she leaves you cold and bundled in sweaters, warm pants and jackets. See?--a capricious coquette. 

I think we're being punished for crowing over the years about our great weather:  mild Winters, early blooming Springs and Summers arriving in April and staying until October. All that bragging is bound to cause an effect. Meanwhile the wardrobe choices has been a challenge--tank tops or woolen knits? Oh well, there's always next year to grab back our boasting rights.