Saturday, April 16, 2011

The REAL Inventor of Microsoft

I'd like to suggest that the real inventor of Microsoft was my wife. Long before there was an internet she had folders. And they could be opened any time you needed information. You also could store information in these folders.

In fact, they're still open and accessible anytime in her desk.

Want to know when and where we bought our bedroom set 57 years ago and how much we paid? It's in a folder. And still in our bedroom. They don't make furniture like that anymore.

Want to know when we last bought carpeting (before this year) and how much we paid and where we got it? Look in the folder. It was 22 years ago.

We each have our own “health” folder in case we need to know when a procedure was done.

There's a “home improvement” folder that tells you, among other things, every time we had to replace a water heater and you could cringe at the how much more it cost each time we had to do it.

She's also got her Mah Jong cards for the last 17 years despite the fact the hands change every year. So what's the point of saving them? Saving them.

Why, I asked her, do you keep all this stuff?

“It seemed like the thing to do at the time and I just keep doing it,” she said, opening another folder for this summer's vacation in Maine.

What did Bill Gates know and when did he know it?

Friday, April 15, 2011

And the MRI Reveals...

So what did the MRI show, already? Not much. No broken bones, no major complications, just plain old pain in the leg bursitis.

I suppose that's the good news from my orthopedist, who likes to spell it orthopaedist. That's also correct but I think a bit pretentious. He's a nice guy so I don't say anything.

But the pain is still there. He changed my medication on the theory if one anti-inflammatory isn't working maybe another one will. This is medical science?

The kicker is he wants me to use a “walking aid” to take some of the pressure off the right leg. He knows I'm a golfer so he suggested I use my five iron to lean on. That's great on the course but I don't see it happening at home or in public.

Fortunately, my wife owns a fold-up cane which is relatively modest in appearance but a cane nevertheless. I tried it out in the house this afternoon and she didn't recognize me. Who is that guy with the cane, she asked? It takes some getting used to, me included.

Well, bottom line is no tennis for the foreseeable future, exercise carefully, new medication as directed, golf whenever, cane as necessary and come back in a month.

What a saga!

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Postal Postscript

Following up on why we did not get mail yesterday, my wife called the central post office this morning and spoke with the supervisor for Verona. Her explanation was we had a substitute delivering our mail. Or, in this case, not. This is an excuse?

So when our regular mailman arrived today we asked him why we didn't get any mail yesterday. He told us Wednesday was a very slow day for mail and, in fact, he told us one or two households received only one item.

OK, if Wednesday is such a slow day why not cancel mail delivery on Wednesdays instead of Saturdays. Some Congressman is always talking about canceling mail on Saturdays to save money.

That hasn't happened so far. Can you imagine the fuss if someone suggested doing away with Wednesday delivery instead of Saturday?

Anyway, with the looming battle over the national budget just ahead, I thought I'd throw in an idea that has nothing to do with Defense, Medicare, Medicaid or Social Security.

Mail your congressman if you think my idea has merit. But not on Wednesday.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

What? No mail?

It is 7:40 p.m. and we have not received our mail today. This is worrisome. We get mail every day but Sunday, even if most of it is junk.

My wife looks forward to receiving mail. It goes back to the days when, as a child, she went to the mailbox in her Bronx apartment building to retrieve the monthly Social Security checks that came for her widowed mother and children. It helped support the family.

Nowadays, the thunk of mail falling through the slot in our front door is a welcome sound, full of mystery and promise. True, most of it eventually lands in the waste basket or shredder but occasionally there's a wonderful surprise, such as pictures of our great grand children in Israel.

It's always pleasant when a rare dividend check shows up because we really don't look for them. They come when they come.

Thursday is the day when all the supermarket flyers and throwaway papers jam the slot. The hunt for bargains is fun. Sometimes you actually find one.

But today, Wednesday, it’s well into the evening and still no mail. We called a neighbor to find out if she received any mail but had to leave a message. She's good at calling back so we'll see if it was just us or a postal malfunction.

Our mailman is a nice guy who has delivered our mail for years. We hope nothing happened to him. We worry about things like that.

We'll keep you posted. Ha.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

What are you thinking, Lady?

I was in the supermarket this morning picking up a few items. I went to the express checkout line and there was a woman in front of me with more than just a few items. No problem. The store wasn't crowded and I wasn't in a hurry.

However, when the clerk finally bagged her last item and gave her the total (which was something over $80) then, and ONLY then did she reach into her huge pocketbook and search around for her credit card. What was she thinking all that time the clerk was running her stuff through the scanner? That she'd get it for nothing?

There I was with my cash in hand ready to check out and this woman has to wait for the entire sale to go through before deciding to pay.

I cite this particular instance as an illustration of something I've seen countless times in checkout lines. And it drives me crazy. Why do women wait until they know the total before realizing they are going to have to pay? Maybe it's RPS, the Reluctant Payee Syndrome. There seems to be a syndrome for everything else these days why not for this type of behavior.

Would it kill a woman to have her credit card, checkbook or cash in hand BEFORE the final item is packed? She probably answers her cell phone faster than paying a bill. (Full disclosure: my wife always has her credit card ready and never can find her cell phone, ringing or not.)

If time is money, think how much we could all save if every woman in every store was ready to pay as soon as the cash register rang up the total.

Watch for this syndrome the next time you're behind a woman in a checkout line. If you see it, suggest she talk to her doctor. At your own risk, of course.

Monday, April 11, 2011

FOMO Phobia

I learned a new acronym this weekend. FOMO, which means Fear Of Missing Out.

It applies to those persons being bombarded with various social networking notices from friends supposedly having the times of their lives at assorted venues without you. You are devastated. FOMO'd as it were.

Well, here's a thought. How do you know they're where they say they are? And how do you know they're having fun? Maybe they're miserable and would like you to be miserable, too. So they send you these messages just to taunt you. Even if they include photos to show you just how hilarious everything is how do you know they haven't been photo-shopped and pasted in? Huh?

What kind of friends show you they're having a wonderful time in your neighborhood and haven't thought to ask you to join them in the first place? Some friends.

I'm not trying to rain on anyone's parade here since I'm not into social networking, but a little common sense could go a long way to ease the FOMO phobia. When I don't like something on the radio or TV I turn it off. When I go into a movie or theater I turn my cell phone off. Sometimes I forget to turn it back on. No problem. If someone has sent me a message or called I'll get it eventually.

So if you don't want to be FOMO'd, turn off your electronic gizmos for a while and give yourself a break from all that socializing. It's good to be alone for a while.

This is a new and fast moving world and we're all trying to keep up. Me, I'm just muddling through.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Lost in the Woods

I love to watch a major golf tournament on TV. This year's Masters Tournament was one of the best I've ever seen.

Did I say seen? As hard as I watched I never did see the guy playing alongside Tiger Woods. There was an occasional glimpse of a man in a light blue shirt walking, usually alone, in front of or behind Tiger as they moved down the fairway.

I never saw him tee off, take another shot or try to make a putt. The CBS eye was on the Tiger all day, when it wasn't on the other golfers making a serious run at the championship. I felt sorry for this young man and wanted to know who he was.

I'm sure his family wanted to see him on TV, too, if only to know he was all right. The NYTimes didn't have the final pairings so I went to the Masters web site and finally found the identity of the player laboring in TV obscurity because he was paired with Tiger Woods.

The player was Martin Laird, 29, of Scotland, who finished at three under par, well back of the winner, Charl Schwarztel, of South Africa who made a rousing closing rally to win at minus 14.

I welcomed the intense TV coverage on Tiger because his brilliant front nine put him in contention, adding suspense and drama to the tournament. But it seems only fair that his playing partner should be acknowledged at some point during the day.

For all his TV time and wonderful effort Tiger finished at a gallant 10-under, four shots off the pace. I'm sure he gave the traditional gentleman’s handshake to Laird at the end but we didn't see that either.

On balance, the TV coverage of the final round of this year's Masters was excellent.

Except for the Mystery of the Invisible Man.