A Bullet doesn’t Care

A bullet tears into his chest, and life exits his body. The bullet doesn’t care. It has no feelings, and no agenda. A violent act has taken place, whether it’s justified or not.

     The shooter took a life and the fact that he’s black or white shouldn’t make a difference. But it does in our society. A white person shooting a black person is a tragedy, it truly is, no question. Equally tragic is a black shooting a black.

    We only seem to care and report the incident if the shooter is white. Justification is not a factor that is considered. Police are always viewed as guilty until . . .  We as a society need to stand together as one race, the human race. Stand up against the tragedy of all violence. The bullet doesn’t care, but we need to. “Just Saying . . .”

The Pandemic Opportunity

Did you spend your downtime stressing over the news reports about the virus? Did you miss the opportunity to expand your life with new skills? 

     None of us knew how long we would have to be sequestered in our homes binge watching Netflix. But as time ticked away, we all recognized this was going to take longer than expected. This was our opportunity to learn new skills or expand old ones. Of course, it would be easy to stay glued to the TV and veg out. It’s somewhat satisfying. I have those days when channel surfing is a fun activity, but a year of it is too much for me. 

     A perfect time to learn some new and fun activity. One of the good things about the Internet are the ‘How to videos.’ You can get instruction on just about anything, so why not take advantage of it. Did you always have a secret desire to be a chef, photographer, painter or musician? Well, there are people on YouTube that will teach you anything you want to know and much of it is free.

     I have friends that have dipped their toe into the painting world with paint-by-numbers, others have taken up once forgotten hobbies by picking up their guitar and relearning the instrument via You Tube. Still others are learning new motorcycle skills, and some are finding their new passion by writing short stories.

     Although it was easy to get distracted by the news, once you set the remote down and move on to a new activity, it becomes easier to ignore the virus distraction. If you are still laying on the couch munching on chips and rewatching an old tv series, it’s okay. There’s still time to discover a hidden talent or skill and find a new passion. The opportunity is still there. That’s what’s cool about opportunity. It never goes away, never. It’s always waiting for you. 

     So whatever your interest, the opportunity exist for you to pursue it, now or later. Why not do it now? “Just Saying . . .”

Smell This or Taste This

A Sommelier, by definition, is a wine steward. They’re a person that is a trained and knowledgeable wine professional. Sounds like a tough job having to taste and judge unique and expensive wines. They are experts in wine and food pairing, which is highly valued in the food industry. It would be no surprise that they are often asked to “Smell This, Taste This.” It’s their job, and they are paid handsomely for it.

I, too, have a special talent related to taste buds. My wife will say. “Taste this,

please,” then hands me a glass filled with liquid. I don’t know if this a normal question for married couples, but this is often asked of me. Great, you may say, you get to taste an expensive wine or a new and unique mixed drink. That’s funny. No, it’s quite the opposite. 

Sometimes I’m requested to “Smell this.” It isn’t because it’s the sweet smell of 

lavender or an aroma from a spice-filled dish she just prepared, but a glass of milk. One that has passed the expiration date, but I smell it anyway. It’s my job, just like the wine Sommelier; I‘m the go-to guy to smell and taste milk that’s maybe going bad. If I say, “It smells fine,” she will often say “Taste it” just to ensure she doesn’t pour sour milk on her Crispix cereal. I pair milk with cereal. It’s not the favorite part of my day, but I’ve been doing it for forty-three years, so it’s become routine. 

After many years of tasting wine, some Sommeliers earn the title of Master

Sommelier. They go through rigorous exams to achieve this privileged title.  

I’ve searched the Internet and have found no information regarding milk 

Sommeliers, let alone a Master milk Sommeliers, but that does not deter me. I will let my forty-three years of experience speak for itself. Due to my extensive background, I am prepared to declare myself as a Master milk Sommelier.

What's your special skill?     

What She Said . . . . What I Heard

This is a creative non-fiction which means I’ve exaggerated a little.

Thanks, Dampemic. You’ve made communication more difficult as if it wasn’t already hard enough. Masks protect us but they muffle our speech, so many times the message you hear isn’t the same that was spoken. Here’s an example of a conversation my wife, Mimi, and I had while grocery shopping. Mind you I’m pushing the cart behind her while she searches the shelves. She talks to me as she’s walking, but not facing me so the sound travels away from me. It’s a science thing. Also, she speaks softly, some Seinfeld fans would describe her as a low talker, but I think soft talker is a more pleasant description.

     Mimi said, “There’s no seeded bread.”

     “Huh, sorry I can’t hear you.”

     She repeats, “There’s no seeded bread.”

     I hear, “There’s no pita bread.” Then I responded, “Oh! Do we need pita bread?”

     Mimi turns toward me. “ No seeded bread.”

     I hear. “No kneaded bread.” I scratch my head. “I’m not positive, but I think all bread is kneaded.”

     Showing her frustration she says, “No, doofus, SEEDED bread.”

    “Oh! You mean Italian bread with seeds. You could’ve just said Italian bread.”

     Shaking her head. “You probably would have heard Stallion bread.”

     “I’ve never heard of Stallion bread. Is that something new?”

     That’s when she pulled her mask down and stuck her tongue out at me.

     Laughing, I said, “Well, that’s not very adult.”

   

It’s just Butter

This being Friday during Lent we decided to have grilled cheese for lunch. Since we had recently been to the grocery store we had Italian bread, cheese and a new tub of butter. We love grilled cheese, it’s comforting. So easy peasy one might say. Well, yes normally that would be the case. 

     It’s never been a challenge to open a tub of butter. It usually has a tab on the side that you pull on and the strip of plastic comes off. Viola’ the butter is open. I did exactly that, but a the small tab broke off. No biggie, I’ll just get a pair of pliers and yank the sucker off, but no joy. It held on like a child holds on to a hand full of your hair.

     Thank the lord I have tools, so I grabbed those I thought would do the trick. A screwdriver, tin snips, and razor blade knife. With the pliers I had successfully ripped off a dozen chunks of plastic that were now strewn over the counter and floor, but unsuccessful at achieving my goal of removing the lid.

     The screwdriver was useless and the tin snips just created more tin bits of plastic to clean up. For the love of God it only butter. Both my wife an I had epic failures in our attempt to open this butter container. To make it worse we were laughing so hard our stomachs hurt. Now we needed the big guns, so I went for the razor blade knife and delicately sliced around the rim of the container while Mimi searched the Internet for a solution. My effort yielded more chunks of plastic to add to the pile. 

     The Internet search was more successful. Apparently the tab is supposed to break off then the top can easily be removed. In my defense there is no visible line that’s easy to see. Since there is a YouTube about opening this butter it tells you we’re not the only ones that have had this problem.

Stay tuned, tomorrow we’re going to open a new jar of jelly.

In the Mind of a Child

I often wonder what's going on in my grandaughter's mind. Many of us probably have had that same thought. What are the grandkids thinking about, especially the little ones? What's important to them? They express emotions like joy, sadness, fear, surprise and anger, but what about other types of feelings. When does a little person show pride?

     Well, I’ve noticed recently when my granddaughter, Stella is at our house she always says to any other visitors we may have. “Do you want to see my b-e-d or Do want to see my r-o-o-m?” She always places the emphasis on the last word. My wife and I find that funny, but I guess all grandparents may have similar stories.

     She seems proud to have a bed and room in our house. It makes me feel good that she thinks of our house as partly hers. Stella has a safe, comfortable home whenever she visits. She is free to roam any room in the house but she seems to favor the snack pantry.

     Tell me something special about your grandchild. I hope you listen closely to what they say because sometimes they can be insightful.

     Wouldn’t it be great if all children had a safe and comfortable place wherever they go? “Just Saying...”

We want your opinion

Every time I purchase something online I receive an email asking me to rate the service, etc. I understand that in order to provide a good product and service a company needs feedback. It becomes annoying because what they want is to receive top marks for everything. If you give them a negative mark, they ask you to write down the problem. This all sounds good on the surface, but it can be time consuming for the customer.

     They use this information to promote their website by validating the customers satisfaction. I don’t know about everyone but I can tell you it’s a lot less stressful to check all the boxes as excellent, because no explanation is needed. That being the case I wonder how accurate those statistics are. The approach I now take is not to answer any request for feedback on a product I purchased, except when the service or product is substandard. On occasion if the vendor goes above and beyond the norm, I will give them positive feedback.

     My expectations are that the product I buy will be delivered on time and a quality to match the price. That’s their job. Why do I have to compliment them for doing what I paid them to do? Does your boss come around everyday and compliment you for every little task you do? I think not. Trust me, if somethings gone haywire with my purchase I will let you know, so if you don’t hear from me just assume you did a good job. “Just Saying . . .?”