Come on in

I went to a National Park this weekend, more for a chance to get out and “be in nature” than anything else. After all, our public lands are just that—public, and we must take advantage of that fact. Apparently, however, I was not the only one with the idea to visit this particular day.

As I made my way closer to the entrance, I noted there was a ton of traffic. Surely, I thought, all these people wouldn’t be going to the park, right? Of course they were, plus even more from the other direction. Great. But, since I drove there, I was going into the park, traffic or no.

Just inside the park traffic stopped, and a sea a brake lines greeted me. We were all waiting for the single entrance booth that was open to collect our money, give us our map, and send us into nature. Joy. This was going to be a while.

And it was.

Eventually it was my turn at the booth. The ranger there was all smiles! She warmly greeted me, and made me feel as if I was the first person she saw that day. She was beyond pleasant, friendly and made sure I was ready to enter the park. I could not believe how she could do this, especially because I was one out of what seemed to be a million people that day.

Yet she was.

And she absolutely made my day.

The National Park service has so many awesome people working for it, and events like this prove just how awesome they are.

Mine! I’ll take it!

A ball sat under a bush in my front yard for weeks and weeks. Today, it does not.

I am embarrassed that I don’t know precisely when the ball appeared under the bush. It could have been there for mere moments before I noticed it. It could have been there for days. Who knows. But, however long the bright green and impossible to not notice the ball sat there, I eventually did see it.

I decided it was a neighbor’s ball, so I continued to leave it. The ball was bright green, so seeing it would not be an issue. Eventually, someone would notice it and reclaim it. It is, after all, the way of the world.

Today though, a young man walked by the bush and the ball. The latter did not escape his attention, and he grabbed it up. He examined it carefully and bounced it on the street. He looked around, and this is how I knew it wasn’t his ball. It was clearly the first time he had seen it, and he wanted to see if anyone saw him pick it up.

I did.

The young hoodlum, for this is now what he is, failed to notice me. He looked around again. Clearly, he needs to be more confident in his thieving ways. 

He walked on, now with the ball that was not his.

Why do I comment? Because in the end, it was just. plain. wrong. And he knew it. That’s the troubling part. He took what was not his for the sake of momentary amusement. It served no purpose for him. Yet, he was willing to deprive someone else of the ball’s pleasure.

He will grow up, and perhaps he will be an older hoodlum. I hope not. I sincerely hope he reflects on his ways and finds his moral compass. I hope he grows into a fine, upstanding person who one day leaves a ball under his bush, waiting for its rightful owner.

I am not, alas, optimistic.

red green

Do you remember the childhood game “Red Light, Green Light”? I do. I used to play it all the time.

Sadly, though, it seems like drivers around where I live play a slight variation of it. Green light means go as fast as you can. Red light does, too.

When approaching an interesection, driviers pay no attention at all to the light and whizz through. Green light? Yea! Red ligjht? Same as the green one. I cannot tell you how many red lights I have seen run, how many close calls happened and how many accidents happened. 

The police? Hah. I’ve seen red lights run right in front of a police cruiser with impunity. More than once. More than twice. A lot of times. 

Maybe it’s just where I live and drivers near you follow the basic rules of the road. I hope so. I hope all drivers aren’t this bad.

As for me, well, I just try to pay attention and hope I get where I am going. 

Complimentary Coffee

I was traveling today, and the most marvelous thing happened—a small gesture, but the small things in life are the best.

Let’s back up a moment. I was driving along this morning down the interstate. It was a fantastic morning. The traffic was light, almost non-existent even. The sky was making its way from night to day. Dawn, and sunrise, would be here in a moment. The only problem I had, which was significant, was that my travel coffee cup was empty.

Luckily, it was easily solved.

I pulled off at a service plaza—I like these because they are quick and easy. In I went and instantly found the coffee. I used my own mug, of course. I headed to the front to pay to be on my way. I didn’t want to miss the sunrise.

The cashier, wonderfully pleasant, looked at me and asked, “refill only?” I said, “yup!” in a cheery voice as I pulled out my credit card.

She looked at me, said “Have a great morning,” and waved me away. I just stopped and looked at her… I couldn’t believe my luck! I said thank you, more than once, and bounded out the door.

Back in the car, I continued down the still-empty interstate and enjoyed the sun as it broke the horizon. It was a glorious sunrise and made even more so by the complimentary coffee.

It was a small gesture for her, but it meant a ton to me. Her kindness snowballed into my joy and made my already wonderful morning incredible.

Thank you. Thank you so very much

Snoring Cat

The day is warm and sunny, with “warm” being relative to December. Still, it’s a nice day, and the sun is streaming in the window. You would think it was a peaceful day, and it would be, except for the snoring cat.

The cat is in the window, enjoying the sunlight and losing his battle to sleep. He nods off, and that’s when the trouble begins. His first snores are quiet, barely audible, and easily lost in the silence of the room. This is not a problem. It’s cute and charming, and it makes me happy to know how content he is.

But then, he gets more comfortable. And now… now the loud snores come out. Snores that cannot be ignored, although, amazingly, are still cute. If I am on the phone, the person on the other end might ask me if I am OK or have a breathing problem. I don’t. The cat does, I patiently explain. The snoring cat continues, oblivious, and I think about ordering more earplugs from Amazon.

But I can’t. I still like the sounds of the snores, for it means the cat is happier and more content than a moment ago. His idea of a perfect afternoon is basking away in the sun. I genuinely think he has the right of it.

I could, of course, wake him up. But I can’t bring myself to do it, and despite my light kvetching, I am disappointed when he stops snoring.

So I write this as his snores increase, drowning out the jet airplane overhead. Sooner or later he will wake himself up, usually with a start, because his snoring is too loud, even for him. I just look over at him, relieved I didn’t have to make the decision to wake him up or not.

We should all have such problems.

It is with the best of intentions

I really have them. I do a post, then figure I’ll come back in a few days for another one. But the day turns into weeks, months and years. I’m under a year since the last post, so I’m doing good in that department. But time slips away from me, so quickly.

So what’s happened in the year? Nothing. Everything. The timeless bubble of COVID-19 has gradually slipped away as we’ve decided the pandemic is over. It isn’t, of course, but we’ve collectively decided it is. Or at least, most of us. Masks are creeping back, slowly, but COVID is still there waiting for us. It is all a blur, regardless, and time slips away. The clock’s ticking is loud, isn’t it?

As I write this, the days still continue to grow shorter, and the bluster of winter is here. Technically, winter itself isn’t, but it let’s count it as winter anyway. Despite that, though, the promise that in just a few short weeks the days will reverse course and grow longer makes it seem like we are turning a corner into next year. We are. It’s just hard to see sometimes.

And maybe, just maybe, it won’t take me a year to do another post. Time slips away.

It’s been forever, hasn’t it?

It’s been forever since I posted. Why? I don’t know. I suppose it is just one of those things. But tonight, for whatever reason, I decided it was time to post again. I looked back at my last post where I was ranting about root beer and decided to pick up where we left off.

Here we are, quite literally years later, and guess what? McDonald’s still doesn’t have root beer. The funny thing is that I still look to see if maybe, just maybe, they’ve brought it back every time I am there. They haven’t. I long for it every time I am there and remember how much I miss it. I have, however, given up asking for it because it just ain’t gonna happen. I’ve come to accept that.

Other fast food chains have root beer, of course. Long John Silver’s, often combined with A&W, has root beer. According to the dispenser, which most surely doesn’t lie nor stretch the truth, the root beer is made daily in the store. I have visions of Root Beer Elves toiling away in the back room, mixing the wonderful elixir, sampling it until it is just right, then carefully, oh so carefully, ensuring it is delivered to us consumers perfectly. Hey, don’t mess up my illusion, OK?

Thank you, Long John Silver’s and A&W, for saving the day.

Second Best

I was at McDonald’s last night, which, despite the postings about fast food here, is not that common. Oh, don’t get me wrong, because I love fast food. But I try to limit it as best as possible. Among the fast-food chains, McDonald’s is near the top of my favorites list.

But, someone, somewhere in their corporate office, decided to remove root beer from their offerings. That decision makes me sad. It is the reason I don’t here there nearly as often as I used to because I adore root beer. Before, they had Barq’s. Not quite as good as Vanilla Barq’s, but still plenty darn fantastic. Until they didn’t. It turns out that I like Barqs more than I like McDonald’s.

But last night I went for a McRib, which I love more than the lack of root beer. And this location has Orange Fanta, so it’s not so bad.

As I was filling up my drink, the store manager was standing there. Never one to miss a chance, however much of a long-shot it is, to pass a message up to corporate, I commented, only slightly casually, that I sure missed the root beer. The manager, being quite accommodating, responded that he did too. Then he took it a step further and asked me what my second favorite flavor was.

To which I responded quite simply: “Wendy’s.”

Crazy World

It is just me, or is this crazy world a little weirder than usual these days?

Twice today, I needed technical support. I try my best to answer my problems by reading and researching. I Google around to see if anyone else has the same problem. And, I look to see if there is an option or setting or widget or something I should have set because I’ve been known to miss the forest for the trees. But when all else fails and it is important to me, I ask for help.

Such was the case this morning. I knew I would need help last night, but decided to wait until this morning. I didn’t see the need to stir up some poor soul late at night for something which isn’t critical in the least. So, this morning, I write an email to support. I succinctly described my problem, told them where it was happening, showed them an example with a screenshot, and told them I read their blog entry describing the issue. I was in no hurry and figured I would receive a reply sooner or later.

A while later, my reply came in. Yea! I had some time to deal with the issue, so I was excited. I opened up the email. It wasn’t a long email, but it wasn’t a complicated problem. The first line apologized for the issue, which I pretty much expected. The second line told me to read their blog, and more specifically, the very blog post that I told them I just read. The third line informed me that I needed to do the very same steps that I told them I did as well as install one more piece of software.

Interestingly, this was the very same software that I was needing support for in the first place. In other words, they told me to do the very things that I told them I just did. Sigh. The person responding didn’t read an inch of what I wrote, other than the topic.

Helpfully, there was a Rate My Experience link at the bottom of the email, which I did. You can guess how that went. Perhaps this is the new normal in our too-hectic crazy world?

Then, later this morning, I started an online chat with another company. It was such a simple problem, or so I thought. A link on their website wasn’t working for my account, and I figured it was probably a simple solution. I also thought it would take five minutes, maybe less. How wrong I was.

The agent came online quick enough and asked what the problem was. I told them and pasted in the error so they could see. They asked where I saw the error. I responded that it was on their website. They asked me if I was logged in. I replied that I was indeed logged in. So far, this is pretty routine, but then we came to the circles in the conversation. They next asked me what the problem was, to which I repasted the error message. Then they asked me what website it was on, to which I responded it was their own.

For the third time, they asked me what the error was, and for the third time, I paste the error message. We went round and round, verifying the information time and again. Each time the replies came slower and slower, and if I had to guess they were juggling multiple people. It’s a pity they didn’t glance at the current conversation, though, to see what question they should ask next.

The result? They said that there was an error and I should try again. But, on the bright side, they would be happy to escalate the issue for me.

I merely thanked them for their time and ended the conversation. What else could I do? They didn’t ask me to rate their support, though. More’s the pity, I guess. However, I will be looking for alternatives to them, that’s for sure.

Anyway, is it just me, or is our crazy world just a little weirder than normal these days?

Reaching Nirvana

I was eating out today at a fast food restaurant (OK, OK. Ow! Stop twisting my arm! It was Wendy’s) and had just finished lunch. I neatly folded up my newspaper, tidied the table, and decided to refill my drink on my way out the door. I’ll admit that one of the reasons I go to this Wendy’s is they have one those wonderful, magical, any drink you can imagine Coke machines there. If you haven’t seen one yet, in which case when you do you are in for a treat, you can push a button and out pours about any Coca-Cola product you can think of, and about one hundred you didn’t think of. All these wonderful flavors are available to you at the push of a button. A simple, on screen, button, clearly labeled with the delicious flavor of your choosing. It is sheer genius by Coke. Pepsi, I’m looking at you now.

While I was in line, an employee was adjusting the machine. While he was fiddling, my hopes for a Vanilla Barqs, the reason raison d’être I go there, were rising and plummeting with each fiddle.  A few nerve-wracking, heart-stopping, near death minutes later I had made it to the front of line. Thinking it was going to be water, I looked over at a fully working machine. The sun came out, the harps began to play and rainbows filled the air. Well, OK. That was a little bit melodramatic, but needless to say lunch was looking much better.

Anyway. Segue to the end of lunch back at the well-adjusted drink machine. Just as I was about ready to step up for more delicious Vanilla Barqs, a small girl slid in just before me. She stared up at this big red machine, full of wonder and delight. She pushed a button, and flavors appeared. She pushed another and more appeared. Another and another and more and more. Back and forth, and forth and back, flavor after endless yummy flavor, hers for the mere push of a button. The sun came out, the harps began to play and rainbows filled the air as she was reaching Nirvana. And that was not a bit melodramatic at all, and in reality I understated just how amazing her journey of the buttons was.

Time passed. No one is sure how long it had been. Perhaps sixty seconds and perhaps sixty years, but when you find Nirvana time is immaterial. Eventually, the young lady stood on her very tip-toes and with a stretch that defined imagination found, and pushed, the one button of all the flavors in the world that she wanted the very most.

Yeah. Vanilla Barqs.

Then, at last, it was my turn. She was not the only one reaching Nirvana.