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Lord, it’s hard to be humble…

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Of course, we know one of us is perfect in every way, right?

Do you find it difficult to be patient with people whose foibles are really not significantly worse than your own? I have to keep reminding myself to be kind. Sometimes. Like, f’r example…

When the friend who likes his wine calls on the phone three sheets to the wind (again!) and drones on, on, and further on about nothing very much. Invariably he calls when I’m in the middle of something I’d like to get finished with now, not later. So his interrupting me while I’m struggling to get through some involved or laborious project does nothing to enhance my gracious personality. And then he bores me stupid with an endless monologue rehearsing all the uninteresting trivia of his day as though these were earthshaking matters of state. The entire one-sided conversation, which groans along until I tell him to get off the phone because I’m busy, concerns one subject and one subject alone: himself. The only responses that are expected or allowed are “uh huh,” hmmm,” “how wonderful,” and “isn’t that interesting?” Even those are hard to wedge in edgewise.

I hate listening to drunks on the phone. Even amiable drunks.

True, we should give thanks that at least he sleeps well at night. His perennially shit-faced cousin used to call at 2:00 in the morning and natter on in exactly the same way. On and on. And on.

Today when he called I managed to blurt out that a mutual friend has sold her house and is moving to his neck of the woods.

“Well, don’t give her my phone number!” said he.

“Don’t give her your phone number? Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to listen to her go on and on about hummingbirds. She’s the most boring person I’ve ever met!”

Heeeee!

Then he proceeded to tell me, for the third time, about the glories of his startling discovery that you can put an egg in bread dough.

Yes. Did you know you can put an egg in bread dough? You can. You can put an egg in bread dough.

😀

Truly. You couldn’t make this stuff up!

What happened to newspaper journalism?

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Modern life, that’s what.

The Times didn’t arrive at the usual hour this morning (nor, I notice, did the Arizona Repulsive, delivered to the neighbors). It finally did show up, around 9:00 a.m.: it was reclining in a puddle of rainwater when I went to drive out of the garage.

A paper that gets to me after breakfast is a paper that arrives too late. I won’t even open the thing. I won’t have time to look at it, because I’ll be fully engaged in the hectic round of time-consuming, repetitive, can’t-be-neglected activities that is my daily life. And my life isn’t even especially busy, compared to most people’s.

As newspaper subscribers realize they’re paying to have half-a-forest of pulped wood delivered to their front doorstep that they have no time to read, they cancel their subscriptions. Revenues fall and management cuts back on the delivery of news. We get less content, less serious reporting, less of value. More readers cancel. In due time, the paper falters and then fails.

That’s about where I am with the Times just now. The only reason I haven’t canceled is that I got a smokin’ deal while I was on the ASU faculty. If I cancel the paper and then decide I want it back, that incredible bargain won’t be available again. I certainly can’t afford to subscribe to the New York Times at its full price. In addition, the Times is instituting a scheme to limit readers’ access to its online edition unless they’re already subscribers to the paper version (huh?) or are willing to pony up some cash for the privilege of cruising the web version. So…it’s either keep the paper subscription, continuing to abet the destruction of forests, the contamination of the environment in the production of ink, and the transport of wads paper smeared with ink that go directly into the recycling bin, or (since on principle I do not pay for Web content) forgo reading the Times altogether.

It sets up quite the internal conflict. I’d like to support journalism. It’s one of the pillars of democracy. Without good reporting—real reporting, not Play-Nooz—citizens cannot know what their elected leaders are doing (or not doing) and can’t know when it’s time to throw the rascals out. The long, slow demise of journalism has traced the long, slow demise of education in this country, and in fact when solid journalism no longer exists, the American republic will soon cease to exist.

But still… Sometimes I feel like a fool, continuing to pay for something that’s fading away like the Cheshire cat.

Image: John Tenniel, The Cheshire Cat. Illustration for Alice in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll. Public Domain

El Niño: The long rains

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Whenever the surface temperatures in the Pacific Ocean shift in just the right way, we get an El Niño event, a periodic rainy season that goes on and on and on. All winter long, we’ve had rain at least once a week.

Blue Dick

It’s raining again this morning. Poured half the night. The desert is greening up, and soon the hills and valleys will be awash in wildflowers. And, consequently, our noses awash in pollen. Arizona is the place to come when you want to find out what you’re allergic to!

Our xeric landscaping also bursts out in wildflowers, more familiarly known as weeds. Right now my front yard is filling up with milkweed and ragweed, filaree and dandelions, many of them noxious imports from other parts of the country and the world.

Arizona lupine

Some are very pretty. A variety of lupine, for example, will sprout in the alleys and occasionally in the lawn. By and large the ones that grow in the city, though, are plug-ugly, invasive, and turn your yard into a jungle of fanny-high brush that, as soon as the heat comes up, dries out and turns to tinder.

Most of the really pretty plants won’t grow in the city, though. You have to get out on the desert and climb a slope to see the carpets of Arizona poppies during the brief few days they bloom. I’ve rarely seen one volunteer in my yard—maybe once or twice, but they’re not happy and they don’t last long.

Arizona poppy

What with all this water falling out of the sky, the yard crop is fierce, noxious, thick, and so robust that it regards Round-up as a minor nuisance. I’ve dribbled the stuff on the front yard weeds twice, to exactly zero effect. And yes, I know… but let qui mal y pense come over here and spend a few days on hands and knees digging thorny plants that exude rash-inducing sap out of a quarter-acre of gravel.

London rocket

The house plants are happy, though. There’s  no question that plants can tell the difference between rain and tap water. As the roses are vibrating with joy, so the indoor plants radiate vegetable contentment when they’re allowed to sit below the eaves and bathe in falling rain.

Plants singin' in the rain

Problem is, of course, you have to yank them indoors at the first sign of hail, of which we have a-plenty. That Christmas cactus out there ran amok the first time it was put out in the rain this winter:

Christmas Cactus

Cassie the Corgi, not being a plant, hates loathes and despises water when it’s not in a dish. Water falling out of the sky is particularly abhorrent. This morning she ran out into the wet dark, pivoted on a dime, streaked back into the house, and deposited a lovely steaming pile in the family room for me to clean up. {sigh}

Well, whenever I get back from ululating down at the cult headquarters, I guess I’ll have to set another fire in the fireplace, the better to keep the Cassowary warm and dry, and spend the afternoon in front of it grading student papers.

Ball likes to be warm, too...

w00t! Money happens!

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American Express has emitted this year’s rebate: $334 back in my pocket! Took it direct to the credit union after having cashed the voucher at Costco.

Despite the new regime of penury, I decided to try to continue putting $200 a month into a savings account for indulgences and emergencies. This will jack the $400 accrued in January and February up to $734.

I do hope that American Express doesn’t pull the widely favored stunt of instituting an annual fee. I doubt that they will, because this card doubles as a Costco membership card. I think it’s more likely that they’ll get their pound of flesh by persuading Costco to raise  membership fees and then kick the increase back to AMEX.

If they put an annual fee on the charge card itself, then I’ll drop it. If they increase the Costco membership…hmmm. That’s another matter. I do almost all my shopping at Costco. It’s extremely convenient, the gas is cheaper than anyplace else around, and the meat is very high in quality. Plus they sell a brand of jeans that actually fit around my capacious rear end.

All of which could be said to fall under the heading of “cutting off your nose to spite your face.” Why would you drop a rebate card that returns $300 or $400 because the lender starts soaking you for $15? It is kind of stupid, isn’t it…

Well, it’s the principle of the thing: we’re already paying for these cards in the form of increased prices, since the banks charge retailers a stiff transaction fee for the privilege of taking payment in the form of a credit card. The cost is passed along to every consumer, whether or not that consumer pays with a card.

So I think the banks are earning quite enough without adding an extra gouge. If they want to charge users a fee for carrying a piece of plastic around, then they need to remove the transaction fee levied against retailers.

For the nonce, though, money has just happened. And I’m glad enough for that.

🙂

Consumer-Proof Packaging? Make the retailer open it!

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So while I was visiting Costco to collect the AMEX rebate and get some gas, I also picked up some RoC Retinol Correxion Deep Wrinkle Fancy Flashing Lights and Mirrors Face Cream. I’d wanted to get some AlphaHydrox, which (as one might suspect) contains a stiff dose of alpha hydroxyls and did indeed make my ruggedly seasoned face look much better when last I used it. But couldn’t find the stuff at the drugstore on the way from the college to the Costco, so settled for the RoC, which boasts not only alpha hydroxyls but also a retinoid compound. It comes highly recommended by those who claim to be in the know. And it’s made in France. Oooooo! Must be good!

Like the mineral make-up, this set of three small tubes of overpriced face goop also came encased in steely hardened cardboard and impenetrable plastic.

Grrrrr…. To make a point, I asked the check-out dude if someone at the store would please cut the consumer-proof package open, since the last time I bought a package of make-up there I wondered if I was going to slice off a finger before I could get at the stuff.

To my amazement, he whipped out a box cutter and cheerfully sliced all the individual components free from their plastic prison!

Clearly, he was not dealing with the first person to make this demandrequest.

So. Now we know: whenever you are forced to buy items sealed in wretched impossible-to-open packages, ask the store’s staff to open them!

Costco Gas Pumps: Not all created equal

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Good grief! As all of us who live in cities large enough to support two or more Costco stores know, individual outlets of that worthy retailer tailor the merchandise to their surrounding demographics. Although basic supplies stay the same from store to store, the blandishments do not: the fancier the neighborhood, the more variety in choices.

Inside the stores, when any two Costco outlets offer the same products, the prices are the same. But outside? Not so much!

I dropped by the Costco near the college today, partly to cash in this year’s AMEX rebate and partly to see if I could pick a few things missing at own much more downscale store. Yes indeed, they did have the lifetime supply of sun-dried tomatoes packed in olive oil, MIA here in the ghetto. Not only that, but I picked up a pair of periwinkle blue jeans, unheard of among the working classes.

On the way out, I drove through the gas station. “Through” is the operative word: they wanted $2.55 a gallon, not significantly different from the street price and altogether, IMHO, too much.

From there I had to drive to the credit union at the West campus of GDU, there to deposit the $334 rebate (!) in my savings account. Another Costco outlet is located right on the way, and that one resides in a much scruffier area. Whip into the gas line there, and what do I find on the pump but a price of $2.43!

That’s a twelve-cent-a-gallon difference!

Since I bought 6.355 gallons, I saved almost a dollar (well…76 cents) by moving on down the road a couple of miles. The car was about a third of a tank down, so had I done a complete refill, the savings would have been over two dollah.