And now, a few Andy Rooney-like moments:
I know times are tough all over.
I know more people are in need than in any recent time.
I appreciate the fine work many charities do helping so many people.
I make it a point, each month when I sit down to pay bills, to try to make a donation or two to organization I feel are doing great work.
All that having been said, I have a gripe.
Increasing numbers of charities seem to think they only way to get my attention is to send nickels or pennies taped to their solicitations.
I get the point.."just a few cents a day can make a big difference."
But I do not need the visual.
And the fact is, being sent coins -- or mailing labels or memo pads or even , as one charity did recently, a paid of thin wool gloves -- is not going to make me any more likely to send a charity a donation.
I feel badly when I get such items from charities to which I do not plan to donate.
Yes, I can just mail the coins back, but what waste of everyone's time!
And nobody else wants address labels and memo pads with my name on them. No point in sending those back. So they go in the recycle bin, since my conscience will not let me use anything I'm sent by a group to which I do not make a donation.
I have no doubt charity experts have determined that the coins are effective in nudging people into giving donations, though no analyst has ever asked me about it.
Regardless, the ploy does not work on me, and I really wish they would stop.
Later.
2.09.2010
Now the nest really seems empty
Everybody talks about it -- as have I, previously in this blog -- about what it is like when the last of your children goes off to college.
I was too lazy to do the research, plus I have no great love for birds, so I won't delve here into why it's been referred to as the empty nest syndrome, rather, than say, empty cave. But when it's just you and your spouse left at home, it is a big change -- especially when you've had at least one kid at home for 26 years.
This happened to us last August, when daughter Megan went off to William & Mary. That made two in college -- son Dan had transferred to nearby George Mason University but was living in an off-campus apartment -- and the other two, Dave and Katie, have been gone for a long time now.
It wasn't till this past week of ridiculous, historic snow in the Northern Virginia-Washington, D.C. area that the empty nest thing really hit home for me.
We've been enjoying our time together, going on trips to Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon, taking last-minute day-cations to historic sites and wineries -- and just being the two of us. I have no doubt that will contineu to be true.
But suddenly having no kid at home to help shovel the snow, or to huddle with when the power went out, or to jump in and play a game of Monopoly to pass the time, I was struck as not before what it's like to be kid-less.
Mary and I did just fine -- with wine and cheese and a candlelight game of Scrabble while the power (and heat) were off Saturday for about five hours. In a way, it was even kind of romantic.
But it seemed so strange to be facing this bizarre winter tsunami without any of our kids there to experience it with us.
And it was no fun looking at those huge piles of snow and knowing it was all on us to deal with it.
We did -- Mary is a world-class shoveler and I'm not bad either -- but I have to admit I missed the help, and the kidding back and forth -- that used to be part of the storm dig-out process.
And I realized that that's they way it's always going to be from here on.
I know, I know. I'm a little slow and should have figured this all out before now.
But I didn't. Now I have.
I'm not sure I'm glad about that.
Later.
I was too lazy to do the research, plus I have no great love for birds, so I won't delve here into why it's been referred to as the empty nest syndrome, rather, than say, empty cave. But when it's just you and your spouse left at home, it is a big change -- especially when you've had at least one kid at home for 26 years.
This happened to us last August, when daughter Megan went off to William & Mary. That made two in college -- son Dan had transferred to nearby George Mason University but was living in an off-campus apartment -- and the other two, Dave and Katie, have been gone for a long time now.
It wasn't till this past week of ridiculous, historic snow in the Northern Virginia-Washington, D.C. area that the empty nest thing really hit home for me.
We've been enjoying our time together, going on trips to Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon, taking last-minute day-cations to historic sites and wineries -- and just being the two of us. I have no doubt that will contineu to be true.
But suddenly having no kid at home to help shovel the snow, or to huddle with when the power went out, or to jump in and play a game of Monopoly to pass the time, I was struck as not before what it's like to be kid-less.
Mary and I did just fine -- with wine and cheese and a candlelight game of Scrabble while the power (and heat) were off Saturday for about five hours. In a way, it was even kind of romantic.
But it seemed so strange to be facing this bizarre winter tsunami without any of our kids there to experience it with us.
And it was no fun looking at those huge piles of snow and knowing it was all on us to deal with it.
We did -- Mary is a world-class shoveler and I'm not bad either -- but I have to admit I missed the help, and the kidding back and forth -- that used to be part of the storm dig-out process.
And I realized that that's they way it's always going to be from here on.
I know, I know. I'm a little slow and should have figured this all out before now.
But I didn't. Now I have.
I'm not sure I'm glad about that.
Later.
2.03.2010
This and that -- TGIF! version (Thank goodness its February!)
It snowed again last night and it's apparently REALLY going to snow this weekend.
Ah, nothing like living in the sunny South.
Even long-time Virginians I've spoken to the past month or so agree this is more snow than they ever remember seeing.
Oldest son Dave came for a visit last weekend from Hoboken, N.J. and wound up shoveling snow. When he got back to N.J., the sidewalks and streets were all snow-free.
Ah, nothing like visiting the sunny South.
But enough griping about snow for now. There is good news.
It's February.
That, all by itself, is a positive.
That and the fact that it is no longer January.
With all due respect to my sister and friends who were born the first month of the year, January is without question my pick for worst month of the year.
You get past the moments after midnight celebrating the start of a new year, and all you've got staring you in the face are 31 days of cold days with snow, gray skies, single-digit wind-chill factors and ... well ... that's about it.
February brings the hope of baseball's spring training -- unless you are a Mets fans this year.
It brings those occasional teasing 50-degree days.
It brings Presidents Day weekend and Valentine's Day.
This year, it brings excitement for the George Mason University baseball season for us, as son Dan has made the transition from the Division III College of New Jersey to this successful Division I program.
Not that February doesn't also bring a lot of cold and snow and single-digit wind chill factors.
But it is a month of hope, of light and warmth up ahead.
It's not May or June -- my two favorite months if you're keeping score -- but it's a zillion times better than its predecessor.
Later.
Ah, nothing like living in the sunny South.
Even long-time Virginians I've spoken to the past month or so agree this is more snow than they ever remember seeing.
Oldest son Dave came for a visit last weekend from Hoboken, N.J. and wound up shoveling snow. When he got back to N.J., the sidewalks and streets were all snow-free.
Ah, nothing like visiting the sunny South.
But enough griping about snow for now. There is good news.
It's February.
That, all by itself, is a positive.
That and the fact that it is no longer January.
With all due respect to my sister and friends who were born the first month of the year, January is without question my pick for worst month of the year.
You get past the moments after midnight celebrating the start of a new year, and all you've got staring you in the face are 31 days of cold days with snow, gray skies, single-digit wind-chill factors and ... well ... that's about it.
February brings the hope of baseball's spring training -- unless you are a Mets fans this year.
It brings those occasional teasing 50-degree days.
It brings Presidents Day weekend and Valentine's Day.
This year, it brings excitement for the George Mason University baseball season for us, as son Dan has made the transition from the Division III College of New Jersey to this successful Division I program.
Not that February doesn't also bring a lot of cold and snow and single-digit wind chill factors.
But it is a month of hope, of light and warmth up ahead.
It's not May or June -- my two favorite months if you're keeping score -- but it's a zillion times better than its predecessor.
Later.
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