Happy Hump Day!

Yes, it's hump day.

Remember it?

In case you need more help, it's WEDNESDAY!  the middle of the week (thus the hump, we all think)

Remember those GEICO commercials that popularized the term with the talking camel walking through office cubicles asking "What day is it? What daaaaaaayyyy is it?"  And, of course, Mike.

Now we are all the camel's foils.  What day is it?

Wednesday.  Hump day. 

Of what we were told by various people at the overused White House podium would be the worst week of our lives -- our Pearl Harbor.

I'm not sure they got that right, several different ways. 

But it's a struggle working from home.  Not going out for this or that.  Of masking up to go to the grocery store.  Of not traveling anyway.

But is it the worst week ever?

I wonder what we'll think if or when we go back and read this in weeks or months.

But we have to go on, plodding like our camel, remembering the day, working, going on. 

Here in NCPA it's the best day we have had all spring -- 70 and sunny.  Spring is here.  Flowers are blooming, trees are budding, birds are chirping.

It ain't all bad.

And maybe, just maybe we've flattened the curve enough to hope.

Maybe.

Maybe it's really hump day. :)

You've got mail!

[Ed. note: this is a series of short blog pieces, one per day (maybe) <aren't we all bored, looking for something to do?>, talking about some daily thing affecting our lives on a personal level -- not comments about the feds, outside states, etc. That's the purpose.  Let's see...]

Yes, I missed yesterday.  Or was uninspired.  A word that covers a lot of days these days.  Agree?

One funny aspect of WFH and week 4 is how I have begun to notice, and enjoy, the delivery of the mail.  I remember previously there would be conversations like, "Did anyone get the mail in?" or "Did you see the mail, I was looking for..."

No longer. 

I'm excited as a puppy for the mail carrier to arrive.  It breaks the monotony of the day -- ours comes in the early afternoon -- 2ish.  You can see the little van-like vehicle parked down the block and hear her (ours is currently a her) steps on the porch as she delivers.

Admission: some days it's a bummer -- junk mail.  It is concerning how many companies, mostly airlines but sometimes Capitol One, want to give one of us in the household a new credit card at almost no interest.  I thought the banking and credit system had tightened after the Great Recession.  Not if they are sending us open-ended requests!

But then there are the good days: some days a box or soft pack comes from a subscription service!  For instance, yesterday it was Birchbox (which wasn't for me, but still...).  Those days the arrival of the mail, and gathering of it, is a moment of excitement in days lacking anything else to look forward to.  

Since I keep seeing people talking about "the big picture," maybe this is an effect of this pandemic -- we will again appreciate the whole mail delivery thing.  The people and technology involved.  

Just as we should better appreciate those who work at pharmacies and grocery stores.  Especially the stockers.  God bless them!

But today I await the mail, again.  Tail wagging. 

PS. It's only a matter of time before I spend one of these rhapsodizing about streaming service drops. :)

Another sportsless Sunday

[Ed. note: this is a series of short blog pieces, one per day (maybe) <aren't we all bored, looking for something to do?>, talking about some daily thing affecting our lives on a personal level -- not comments about the feds, outside states, etc. That's the purpose.  Let's see...]

Yes, it's Sunday.  Sunday.  Sunday.

Remember the day.  Here in this house it is day 23 of quarantine.  Grrrr...

It's Palm Sunday.

Yet no one (sane) is out and about enjoying a spring-like day, or worshipping at the beginning of Christian Holy Week. 

We walked through our park around noon today.  We met no one. 

Our evening walk met a few, but it wasn't crowded, despite 66 degree temperatures.

In between: no sports. 

This would have been the Sunday between the March Madness seminfinals and the final on Monday.  Most years there would be baseball, this year in its second week, and probably golf -- priming for next week's (of course now postponed) Masters.

None of that was on. ): None of that will be on.  For awhile.

We are a nation that loves its televised sports.  March Madness, baseball season, golf, and, soon, NBA playoffs.  Gone, gone, gone, and gone.

And if you think all these "let's replay this game" things make up for it -- bull shit!!!  A big part of watching live sports is the drama: who wins, who plays well?  If you know Seton Hall beat Michigan in 1995, making PJ Carlissimo such a household name he is still on TV, then there's not much reason to watch, other than to see how long everyone's shorts were that year.

No. There's drama these days in live horse racing, this weekend from Tampa Bay, Gulfstream Park and Oaklawn Park.  I watched a little yesterday (it keeps raining at Oaklawn, which is in Arkansas) and it's fun to watch them go at it, even if you don't know who's who.  Part of the fun is in the not knowing how it'll play out -- will that crazy horse that goes out to the lead early and looks like it's running away hold on?  Will the one that looks uninterested in last place sweep past everyone and win?  Or will someone sneak through on the inside, having been pretty much ignored the whole race?

It's Sunday.  Palm Sunday.  We miss the drama of live sports. 

It just makes the days harder to take.  And harder to keep track of. 

Sigh...

New Notions of Time (pssst, it's Saturday!)

[Ed. note: this is a series of short blog pieces, one per day (maybe) <aren't we all bored, looking for something to do?>, talking about some daily thing affecting our lives on a personal level -- not comments about the feds, outside states, etc. That's the purpose.  Let's see...]

Some people read yesterday's first blog.  Thanks! 

Today is Saturday.  SATURDAY! 

I have a friend who has asked the last couple of weeks if it makes any difference what day it is -- yes! Yes! Yes! 

But we all, here in most of America, have gotten used to, or are getting used to, a whole new meaning of time.  

The first, funniest meme I saw on this was:

I have now lived through seven decades

The 60s

The 70s

The 80s

The 90s

The 00s

The 10s

March.

LMAO!  

Feels so true.  

But let me put it out there: if you thought March was long, wait till you see April!  

None of us were quarantined all of March; it looks like everyone will be for all of April.  

Oh, shit. 

T.S. Eliot said "April is the cruelest month" and though he lived through the Spanish flu epidemic, he had no idea about this.  

Is it only noon? 😒

We have all begun to strain as we can't separate one day from another, since we move our workspace, or not, a few feet, so that Monday is like Tuesday is like Wednesday is like Saturday.  

I have a new way to measure time:

Since I quoted Eliot above, this seems to be 2020's variation on his "Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,/I have measured out my life with coffee spoons."  We are measuring ours out in sheets of TP.

There was a piece on the internet where the person calculated how long toilet paper lasted.  You know, two weeks ago in the beginning of the rush to horde.  Aren't we all calculating that? 😠

And, if you haven't read about it, here's a good article about why there's a TP crisis. 

Search Results

Web results

What Everyone's Getting Wrong About the Toilet Paper Shortage

Eliot made a life of tea parties and social events sound like hell.  Now we have a life with no tea parties or social life and we know he was wrong. 

But we'll get through it:

Remember, it's Saturday!  Hooray!  

Notes from the Edge (of the Apocalypse): E Tu Brutus?!

[Ed. note: this is a series of short blog pieces, one per day (maybe) <aren't we all bored, looking for something to do?>, talking about some daily thing affecting our lives on a local level -- not comments about the feds, outside states, etc. That's the purpose.  Let's see...]

So, my thing today is: why can't local grocery stores get their act together to do curbside service?

Two weeks ago, TWO WEEKS AGO!, I tried to get groceries without going into the store.  There are two grocery stores within a mile of my house.  Well, the first, Weis, didn't do it.  Their app said they did, but it wouldn't go beyond filling the cart, so I called the local store.  I was told they didn't do that.

Then I tried the Giant app.  Which switched me to Peapod (I'm just reporting).  In the end, I couldn't schedule till five days later?!?!!?!? 

WTF!?!!?

How hard is this?  I've been in Giant when their "associates" were filling these orders for people -- it doesn't look like rocket science (or, as the joke goes, rocket surgery), so it doesn't seem like it is about personnel (and as of now there are only a handful of Covid cases in this county, so it can't be people out sick), and they do it with a scanner on their arm that tells them they are getting the item ordered. So, it doesn't look tricky.

So how can grocery stores not have this figured out?  Why don't they have their personnel doing this already? How hard is it?

It's something we all want -- access to groceries without having to stay this far away from each other --
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fcn6sah5vf8

So, today's first day rant is this: why can't grocery stores get their act together and provide enough slots for us all to drive up and get our groceries?  Or most of us? 

Get your act together?!?!?

Summer 2019 Baseball Trip: A rock in Cleveland, a roar in Detroit, & a storm in Cincy

So, this week was our "annual" (defined as anything that has happened twice) baseball trip, as we attempt to cover all 30 parks in Major League Baseball (because we capitalize it now, right?).  With these three, we have now seen games in 20.

The synopsis: I liked Cincy best, though Tiger Stadium was close, with Cleveland last of the three, and not high on any "all-time list."

For context, my favorite three: Candlestick (by whatever name) Park, D-backs Stadium, and Camden Yard.

Bottom three: Anaheim, Kansas City, and Wrigley (I know...but, really...)

I have some criteria: I want a park with amenities (different types of food, plenty of bathrooms), seats with good views (see Wrigley, above, where the last several times I've gone part of the field was blocked by the pillars), and the stadium having certain design quality: one qualm I have with Pittsburgh park is the fact they didn't bother with any brick or stone facing anywhere in the park.  The river is great, if you have the right seats, but not that kind of almost hidden external feature elevates the place.

Cincy (named "Great American Ball Park") has these things.  I had Skyline chili dogs for lunch (with the instant heartburn that comes with Cincinnati chili -- a feature of that haute cuisine) and they had a huge craft beer stand.  The Ohio River is still there (like Pittsburgh) and you add the cheesiness of the steamboat with the smoke stacks that shoot fireworks and you have something.  Where's the thumbs up emoji?

Tiger Stadium has tigers.  Huge statues of tigers.  Multiple types of food.  The fascade was stone covered.  There was no river in the background, but it was a quality, inner city park.

Cleveland.  Okay, credo: one's experience of a game is better or worse depending on the weather.  It was 55 with a breeze, with potential showers, for the Indians game. They were playing the Orioles -- you know, the best team in baseball.  And lost to them.

Generally, there's nothing terribly wrong with Progressive Field (okay, too many Flo references, but we'll ignore that, for now) -- you have good views of the field; it's cozy enough, as the modern style baseball-only parks are, and had plenty of food.  But there was no brick or stone on the facades (this is a feature of Target Field in Minneapolis that really stands out) and the background of the Cleveland skyline is...blah.

So, that's my report.  K liked Detroit best by a little bit.

But all three are variations, more or less, of the current thinking in baseball stadium: smaller, good seats, good amenities, with some touches to add character.  None of them is Wrigley or Anaheim or KC, all dinosaurs of our baseball architectural past.

I think our next addition is Fenway (no, never been there...based on my criteria, I don't have high hopes -- I've not been a fan of either Wrigley or Yankee Stadium -- but we both want to see it.  Something to look forward to.

Play ball everyone!

Green Book: Book the performances

In my continuing saga to see "Christmas movies," we saw Green Book this weekend.

Let me say this: if this is the Best Picture, then it wasn't a great year.

It's good.  Maybe very good.

But it's not "best."

If you missed the gist of the story, it's Driving Miss Daisy, except the twist is the driver is the white one.  And I guess Mahershala Ali isn't "miss."  But you get the idea.

Car, driver, drivee: two worlds.  They interact.  Come to know each other and, Lo and Behold! become friends.

I'm not sure there's a real twist here. Because it's based on a true story?  Nah.

Viggo Mortensen is good as Tony "Lip" -- a New York bouncer who has enough reputation as a driver, bouncer, etc, to be recommended for a two-month trip with Ali's Doctor Shirley, a jazz trio pianist of some fame who is doing a circuit through the South. This is 1962.

Ali is good, too.  Where Mortensen doesn't have to get far from the early 60s working class New York Italian stereotype, Ali is both a cultured African-American (there's a shot of them stuck on the road opposite African-Americans in a field -- we might think it's cotton), a man with some money, but still the color of his skin in the South means, in the one example, he can't eat in the very restaurant where he is the headliner to play that night. 

They do a good job of interacting; it's good to see Tony do his job well and to develop, and it's good to see Doc gets his fingers dirty with KFC and ripping up some dance music in an impromptu session in a club.

It's worth seeing.  Does it do anything in terms of story, in terms of camera work, in terms of anything that gets outside the box?  No.  But it's a good, solid story.  See it.