Hey, Secretary of Labor: Ask Me How To End Unemployment

Posted on June 15, 2011 by pegoleg

Everyone hop aboard the tricycle of full employment!

Almost 15 million Americans are out of work.  The best way to handle this is to fire some more.

Pundits say that unemployment statistics are made up of two parts: those looking for work, and those who have given up looking.  But there is another factor; a third wheel, if you will, that must be put on the tricycle of employment to get it rolling down the driveway of prosperity again.

We need to identify those who SHOULD be out of work.   Those who should be de-employed.

Don’t play coy.  You know what I mean.  You can walk into almost any business establishment anywhere in the world and find someone who should be de-employed.   I bet you can think of 5 recent examples off the top of your head.

We can identify candidates for de-employment using the UnEquation as a litmus test:

            Unpleasant
            Unhelpful                 
            Unspeedy               =           Unemployed
            Uninterested
            Unnecessary   
            Undependable

My initial research indicates several broad job classifications that are rife with potential de-employees:

  • Health aides, trusted to provide personal care for the old, ill and infirm, who obviously despise the old, ill and infirm.  1.1 million
  • Food service workers with no teeth and/or rotten teeth.  I’m sorry for those without the means for dental care, but jeez, Louise. Pick another industry.  .2 million
  • Sales and service people who take care of their personal business (coffee break, phone call from kid, flirting, texting) while paying customers languish.  4.2 million
  • Guys getting double time, health, dental, and a full pension to hold the sign that says “SLOW” at road construction sites.  De-employing these workers won’t actually help unemployment, because I’d replace them with a sign on a stick, but they should still be de-employed on principle.  .3 million
  • Customer service personnel who hide behind automatic voice systems, going about their workday without interruption, while the customer wanders, dazed and confused, through an endless phone loop, feebly pressing “0” in a useless attempt to talk to a real human being.   2.7 million
  • Anyone working in fast food who is not fast.  4.9 million
  • Workers who complain about their jobs, boss, other co-workers right in front of you, the customer.   3.2 million.
  • Postal employee who spent 10 minutes explaining to each customer in the long line how it was not HER job to take the heavy parcels to the main post office in her car, and if she ends up having to do it today, like yesterday, then the mail will NOT go out until tomorrow, and damned if that is HER fault, and she told the union steward…  1

We’ll develop a smart-phone app that will allow people to quickly and easily send a brief report, photo and GPS coordinates of the slacker to a central processing center for de-employment review. 

Once all these people are de-employed, their jobs are freed up for the unemployed who WANT to work.   Employers will have their pick of people who appreciate the dignity of work and are prepared to give any job, no matter how humble, their best effort. 

And what about those who have been de-employed due to their poor performance?   Some sort of work will be required from those who are able.   We don’t want anyone to starve, of course, so we’ll have a safety net of benefits.  The benefits must be less than those earned by the people who are working, or there is no incentive to get a job, let alone to do it well.

I’ll leave the details to our elected officials.   I can’t do everything.

Someday soon, when the 20-year-old barista at your coffee shop gives you a load of attitude because you didn’t use their annoying sizing terminology, you’ll just whip out your phone and start her de-employment process. 

You’ll smile as you walk out with your small, regular coffee, knowing a cheerful, helpful employee will be there in her place tomorrow.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 44 Comments

She’s Strictly A Female, Female

Posted on June 13, 2011 by pegoleg

I saw a fascinating British documentary called Supersize She.  The movie chronicled the efforts of a professional woman bodybuilder named Joanna to be #1 in her sport.

Everything was great until the interviewer asked about steroid use.  That’s when Joanna blew up.

My eyes have been blacked out to preserve my privacy.

I don’t blame her.  Women bodybuilders literally work their butts off.  It is nothing but a vicious stereotype that the pros use steroids that turn them into men.

As a regular at the YMCA; someone who routinely pushes back 40 lbs on the Seated Leg Press  – yes, you read that right: I said 4 ZERO – I believe I’m qualified to speak for these women and put to rest some of the steroid rumors swirling about them.

  • Women bodybuilders are just naturally flat-chested.  Except when they have real, natural breasts that look like 2 grapefruit sitting up high on their rock-hard pecs.
  • It’s merely coincidence that all female bodybuilders sing basso profundo.
  • It is NOT true that steroids make them super aggressive.  They are still feminine and have no trouble picking up men.   Often with just one arm.
  • That Norelco Triple Head Flexible Shaver in their gym bags is for their legs.  Of course they don’t need to shave their backsides or naturally lantern-like jaws.
  • That is NOT their “package”.  They just keep their lipstick and car keys in their bikini bottoms while onstage.

The extreme musculature of the woman bodybuilder is all about training, and has nothing to do with using dangerous and illegal drugs.   So to all the haters, I say stop teasing them for looking masculine -especially you drag queens.

Before you get the crap kicked out of you.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Contract Law 401: Negotiating With God

Posted on June 10, 2011 by pegoleg

God's attorney takes a deal.

I recently posted about my near-death experience while flying.  My cousin Ed, a noted quipster, responded with a joke about a billionaire in a similar circumstance who made a deal with God to give away half his wealth if he got out alive.  Once the plane touched down safely, he claimed to have renegotiated the deal.

The joke was mildly amusing, but the important thing is it got me thinking.

It’s human nature to try to negotiate with God.  We do it all the time when we’re under stress.  The bargains we offer are pretty standard.  It’s like Mad Libs – just fill in the blanks:

             “God, if only you’ll (verb) the (noun), I promise to (clause)!”
                                                   A               B                                    C

A) give me
     spare me

B) wealth
     hot body
     woman/man I want
     immortality
     burden
     pain
     parental wrath
  
C) give half my money to the poor
     never tease my brother again
     go to church every day
     not turn into a vampire
 
As I recall from business law classes, a valid contract must have offer and acceptance.  The problem with making deals with God is you’re never quite sure of the acceptance.  How do you know if He is onboard?  

There are lots of examples of people making deals with the devil, at least in the movies.  The fiendish contracts that forfeit their souls are signed in blood, fire or something equally dramatic and permanent.  Seems the devil’s attorneys like their contracts iron-clad.

God is a lot harder to pin down.  A rainbow is some sort of covenant, but try taking that into court to get damages the next time your big event is rained out.  You rarely hear of Him putting it in writing.  I’d be hard pressed to recall any examples besides the commandments.

As far as the billionaire in the joke, I’d have to side with him in this case.  If God didn’t put His John Hancock on the contract, it’s not binding.

It doesn’t matter what I think, though.  In the final analysis, we all have to answer to a higher power. 

Judge Judy.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , | 28 Comments

I Am A Worrywart; Is That A Bad Thing?

Posted on June 8, 2011 by pegoleg

How I would look providing aid and comfort to a fellow traveler. If I had done so.

I worry too much.  My husband often tells me that.  But there’s nothing like a near-death experience to put things in perspective.

My 2 daughters and I were on a flight into Chicago last Saturday.  Weather was bad on the ground so we circled overhead for about 45 minutes before the captain said we were good to go.  He turned on the fasten seat-belt sign and warned it might get a “little bumpy”.

It was a “little bumpy” the way the dentist warns you may feel a “little pinch” with a shot in the roof of your mouth, or the Ob/Gyn says that childbirth may cause a “little discomfort”.

After a couple of rough bumps, the plane lurched violently to the left; the arms of the seat dug sharply into our ribs.  Then it lurched violently to the right, snapping the seatbelts into locked position.  Then it dropped.

Several women were screaming, including one across the aisle from me.  The poor man right behind her, a Caribbean gentleman who had never flown before, called to God for help.  I assume lots of people were praying. I know I was.  He, however, was shouting.  “JE-sus.  JE-sus. DEAR Lord, SAVE us!”  Every 30 seconds or so he would fling his arms up and call out “JE-sus!”

I grabbed each daughter’s hand and held on tight, trying to impart strength and calm.  At least I thought I had each daughter’s hand, but in all the hubbub I had grabbed two of Gwen’s, and Liz was outside the protective circle of love I was building.  I dropped one of Gwen’s hands and fished for Liz’s, ignoring her attempts to pull away.  She took time during the crisis to flash me a look of annoyance. 

But I held on with a death grip anyway.  Because that’s what it might have been.

The thing is, I had already pre-worried this whole scenario. 

In my pre-flight worrying, I had covered just about all of the major disasters that could befall us: hijacking, terrorism, and going down due to bad weather or equipment malfunction.  I had even outlined a few scenarios that were, in retrospect, a bit unlikely.  Things like contracting Legionnaire’s Disease from the recycled cabin air.  (Although that might still come to pass – it has only been a few days and I don’t know what the incubation period is for Legionnaire’s.)

In the bad weather scenario, I saw me gripping the girls’ hands in a circle of protective, calm, strengthiness.  I fantasized about us joining spontaneously in prayer, and exchanging one last, loving look as I whispered, “God bless you”, right before the end.

By now you’ve probably figured out that we did not end up scattered across the south side of Chicago.  I don’t think you can access WordPress from the 5th circle of hell.  The pilot touched down smoothly, and then hit the brakes so hard we all pressed our feet to the floor as if it would help him stop this Instrument of Death.  The cabin erupted in applause and cheering as the plane slowed, just like in the movies.

Only the handholding part of my pre-event worrying actually came to pass, and that was marred by Liz’s undramatic attitude.

The Caribbean gentleman sat with his head in his hands after the worst of the ordeal, which seemed to last forever, but was probably all of 7 minutes.  In the thick of it I wanted to reach across the aisle to hold his hand, but I couldn’t break the circle with my daughters.  I risked a glance at him as we landed and he looked at me and said, in his beautiful, singsong island voice “It is too much.  It is just too much.”  I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, but I agreed whole-heartedly.

What I’ve taken away from this experience is that pre-event worrying has a definite place in one’s preparedness arsenal.  Without it, I probably wouldn’t have come up with the calm handholding strategy and may have spent my last moments on earth screaming my fool head off.

As to the Caribbean gentleman, when I last saw him he was shakily stepping off the plane and vowing never to fly again.  Without flying, I figure he’ll make it back home sometime around October.  If his ship doesn’t get blown off-course during a hurricane.

Posted in Vacation Stories | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments

Somewhere Under The Rainbow

Posted on June 6, 2011 by pegoleg

Which way to the beach?

While flipping through a glossy new-car brochure, I came across a vehicle colored Champagne Sand.   The implication was that I (and a fantasy companion) could be sipping champagne on a smooth, sandy beach if only we had this car to get us there.  That mental picture beats the heck out of a trip to the grocery store, which is what a photo of a Beige mini-van usually inspires. 

The colors of my life are often dull.  Sometimes they’re downright disgusting.  Maybe it’s just the way I’m looking at things.  Applying a bit of Madison Avenue razzle-dazzle might improve my outlook.

  • The cat threw up all over the carpet.  Knowing that Beeby has been frolicking in a Field of Young Clover will make cleanup a snap.
  • The knife slipped while I was chopping onions.  That bright ribbon of Cherries Jubilee unfurling on the kitchen counter gives me great ideas for our next remodel.
  • Someone left a used Q-Tip by the bathroom sink again.  I can’t help but admire its rich shade of English Toffee as I chuck it in the trash.
  • Too much asparagus for dinner.  What a pleasant surprise when a midnight trip to the loo reveals a stream of Pea Pea Green.
  • With roots this lovely shade of Mouse Coat Gray, I’m in no hurry to call my hairdresser
  • Just because every wall in the house is painted Polar Bear Lumbering Through A Snowy Landscape, doesn’t mean I’m a cowardly decorator.
  • The hirsute guy on the treadmill in front of me has a big tuft of hair sticking through a hole in the back of his t-shirt.  The Wire Brush Black hair provides a vivid contrast with his white shirt.

It’s just a matter of having the right attitude!  With my new outlook, the next time life hands me lemons, I’ll make lemonade – colored Yesterday’s Urine Yellow.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , | 29 Comments

Let Them Eat Cake

Posted on June 2, 2011 by pegoleg

My wedding cake has lasted longer than most marriages.

 

The ideal kitchen, shown on my favorite channel, HGTV, has granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. So of course, when our refrigerator died, I really wanted to go with stainless.

Unfortunately, stainless is a lot pricier than white. Looking for a way to manage this on a budget, I hit upon a scheme to get a free refrigerator. I wrote to GE and asked for one.

I am not making any of this up. Here is a copy of the letter I sent:

 

 

 

 

Mr. Jeffrey R. Immelt
GE Chairman of the Board

Dear Mr. Immelt,

I have had my GE refrigerator for about 23 years. My husband and I bought it when we got our first house and it has been a dependable workhorse. But it is getting old. The little gizmo that tells the refrigerator the door is open broke off about 10 years ago and we have been in the dark ever since. The drawers are half broken. The time has come to say goodbye.

I have a replacement all picked out. Of course it’s a GE product. I am in love with one of your refrigerators. Not just any refrigerator, but the GE Profile Energy Star 22.2 Cu.Ft. stainless bottom-freezer model PFS22SBSSS – the one without the ice-maker. We have a little kitchen and this will actually fit in the small space I have.

“Great!” You say. “We like people to be in love with our appliances. What’s the problem?”

I can’t afford it. I have GE Profile refrigerator tastes and a dorm fridge budget.

“Oh” You say, not as warmly as before. “Sorry, but what do you expect us to do about that?”

I’d like you to give me one.

I have a wonderful husband and two, fantastic teenage girls. But if it were just about us, I wouldn’t ask. No, I’d get the $300 model with the wire shelves and be happy. But this is bigger than us. I’m thinking about what is best for our wedding cake. This is a big year for our wedding cake. It will be 25 in November. It has lasted longer than 80% of marriages in America today (not sure of that statistic, but it sounds about right).

It’s an old story, one you probably hear everyday. Our wedding cake spent its first year in my mother’s freezer. Since then it has been way in the back on the bottom shelf of my GE refrigerator (in the dark since the door-is-open-gizmo-breakage-incident). Over the years, whenever we’ve moved, it was the last thing out of the fridge and the first thing back in at the new home. It’s still in pretty good shape, although I don’t think I’d eat it.

Don’t you think that a cake like that deserves a GE Profile Energy Star 22.2 Cu.Ft. stainless bottom-freezer model PFS22SBSSS refrigerator, the one without the ice maker, as a resting place?

Wouldn’t this be a great advertisement for GE refrigerators? What a testimonial to the wonderful preservative powers of your refrigerators. Also a terrifying commentary on the preservatives in food, but that is beside the point.

Please consider my proposal. I would appreciate hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Peg

You will be happy to know I did end up getting a stainless steel, French door, freezer-on-the-bottom refrigerator. I love it!

You may be surprised to learn, however, that my new refrigerator was not a gift from the chairman of GE.

Instead of the very large cardboard box I was expecting, GE sent a letter. It was a chilly (note the irony) little form letter from some public relations flunky stating they always appreciate hearing from customers, yada yada yada. There wasn’t even a coupon enclosed!

Although the new appliance was expensive, I am content. To all those unfortunate souls still yearning for a stainless steel refrigerator, I say – let them eat cake! I just so happen to have some in my fridge.

p.s. I am on vacation this week.  Here is a post I originally wrote  for another site, before I came to WordPress last fall.  Hope it gets more readers than the 2 it got the first time around.

 
Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

Throwing In The Towel

Posted on May 30, 2011 by pegoleg

Artist's rendering of me with a towel.

Note to self:  After blogging, be sure to switch into “Normal World” mode before venturing forth.

The local YMCA lobby has a circular front desk.  After you swipe your membership card at the 3 o’clock position, you pass through the gate and emerge around the back half of the desk sphere, where they stack the towels.

The towel situation is a bit of a crapshoot.  Sometimes you come around the bend of the desk to see a mountain of clean, white towels.  Sometimes, there are no towels.

The thing is, the place is a steam bath.

The ecosystem of the exercise room mirrors that of the rainforest.  Here, scientists have been able to successfully grow rare plants that need heat and moisture.  If the low hanging plants sometimes interfere with one’s workout, it is a small price to pay to save these precious resources.  The spider monkeys, however, are really annoying.

I try not to dwell on the fact that all that moisture is the evaporated sweat of my workout brethren.  And that am breathing it in.   Suffice it to say, you need a towel here.

Today, as I swiped my card, I craned my neck to check the back desk.  Did I see white?  Yes!  But that is no guarantee.  I’ve seen towels from this vantage point before, only to have them snapped up before my aged legs could totter around the desk.

There is white on the desk, but not much.  It may not even qualify as a pile – more of a short stack.   I’m passing through the gate now, my mind busy sifting through possibilities, plotting angles and velocities in case someone sprints down the hall.  I have a definite shot at this.

I’m around the arc.  I reach, trying not to grab, trying not to show desperation.  My hand closes around one corner of a towel and I reel it in.    As the towel clears the desk I see only Formica underneath.   Lo and behold, I have snagged the last towel!

This is where the disconnect from “Normal World” comes in.

My hand continues its upward trajectory until I am holding the fluffy whiteness aloft, high above my head.  I actually throw my head back and laugh, a full-throated, maniacal “ha ha ha.  HA HA HA!”

If the young woman working the desk were one of the high school Barbies they usually employ, I would have been on the receiving end of one of two possible looks:

  1)  blank, bored, incomprehension

  2) “whatever”, eye-rolling disdain 

But the woman working today was a little older.  She got it.  She had the grace to laugh in response and say, “Sometimes it’s the little things.”

Too true.

p. s.  I was sweating after only a few minutes on the treadmill.  I reached for the towel hanging from the arm, only to discover it had fallen to the floor.   It was out of reach, its pristine whiteness begrimed with Y dirt.  For the next 20 minutes I swiped my stinging eyes with my sleeve.

p.p.s. I am on vacation this week.  This is a rewrite of a post from last November that was seen by approximately 2 people.  Hope it finds a wider audience now.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , | 14 Comments

When Did Kids Start Getting Botox Instead Of The Character-Building Haircut?

Posted on May 26, 2011 by pegoleg

Me, full of character at 5. Thanks Mom!

I heard on the news recently about a woman who gave her 8-year-old daughter Botox injections.  Botox!  This comes on the heels of the announcement that Abercrombie & Fitch is now selling push-up bra tops for little girls.  

What is the matter with parents today? 

When I was a kid, all that mattered was that our private bits were covered, and that we were reasonably clean and neat for school and church.  Anything more than that was gilding the lily, and would make a child vain and uppity.

My mom cut my hair, as did the mother of every other girl I knew. If your mom used styling aids such as a bowl or tape to get the bangs straight, you were skating dangerously close to “well, la-di-da!” territory.

On haircut day, Mom would line us girls up for a turn on the stool, towels around our necks.  We all had bangs, and they were tricky to cut.  Mom combed them down; snip, snip, and then stood back to assess her work.  Invariably one end was higher than the other.  Back she came; snip, snip, and then a new assessment. 

This went on until you had about ½ inch of hair sticking out of your forehead.  Then you were done.  Not because the bangs were even, but because Mom had run out of raw material.

If anyone suggested you take your kids to a stylist, they would be suspected of anti-American subversion.  Children didn’t go to the beauty salon, for God’s sake!  Only grown women went there, once a week, to get away from their kids.

Having a lousy haircut was seen as character building.  Every year’s school picture was a testament to the high level of my character.

My Dad took the boys down the basement to his workroom for their turn with the stool and the towel.  Instead of scissors, however, Dad used the electric razor.  A few passes over their heads and they were good to go.   ½ inch of hair all around was the de rigueur summer haircut for all boys. 

We girls couldn’t resist the rough/soft feel of our brothers’ newly shorn heads, much to their disgust.

The basic setup was the same when Dad took the boys down the basement for “The Big Talk” about the facts of life – minus the razor.  I guess Dad felt most comfortable taking care of father/son business among cans of nails and half-done repair projects.   Mom wouldn’t let us eavesdrop, but I understand “The Big Talk” was short on mechanics and long on responsibility, all summed up by the pithy command to “keep it in your pants”.  Words to live by. 

Children today might benefit from some one-on-one stool time with their parents. 

Botox wears off, $120 highlights grow out, and sexy lingerie is thrown away.  Encouraging thriftiness, personal responsibility and an appreciation for oneself that goes beyond the cosmetic may be a better investment. 

Good character lasts forever.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 29 Comments

I Suffer From Post Traumatic Bra Stress Disorder

Posted on May 24, 2011 by pegoleg

Tiptoe, through the binders...

I read an article recently about an entrepreneur whose chain of bra shops is rapidly expanding across the country.  Her stores emphasize measuring and custom fitting for each woman.

As I read, my hands started shaking.  I broke into a cold sweat.  The years melted away, and it was as if I was 12 again.

My mom had decided it was time I got a bra, so she took me to Sam’s.  This Sam’s had nothing to with Wal-Mart.  It was one of those independent department stores that every downtown used to have.

Down the curving staircase we went, to the ladies lingerie and foundation department.  A tiny, old, bird-like lady named Mrs. Morse was absolute ruler of this silk and spandex kingdom.  She had started work at Sam’s in the age of the horsehair bustle, and knew everything there was to know about foundation garments.  She must have been 97 years old. 

At 12, I was almost twice the lady’s size: gawky, chubby and awkward.

I was whisked into a curtained dressing room and ordered to strip from the waist up.  Then Mrs. Morse got busy with her tape measure.  Every inch of my pale, quivering flesh was mercilessly prodded and measured.   All the while she and my mom talked about breasts and bras in general, and my little offerings in particular.   Then she left me cowering in the corner and went to round up some of her stock-in-trade.

I wanted a stretchy undershirt like most girls my age wore.  Unlike most 12 year olds, however, I had some development going on.  I did not like it.  Nobody wants to be the first in the class to board the Puberty Express; nor do you want to be the last.  Different is fatal at 12.

Mrs. Morse brought back several spandex instruments of torture and bade me put one on.  I struggled into it and was checking myself out in the full-length mirror with a combination of fascination and horror, when the curtain was suddenly wrenched back.  Both my mother and Mrs. Morse crowded into the open doorway, and started stretching and tweaking as if my bra-clad bumps were on a mannequin, instead of being firmly attached to my blushing, mortified self. 

With the curtain drawn back, the dressing room was open to the entire rest of the floor.  Anyone walking through the foundation department could get a good look.   What if, God forbid, a BOY happened by?  I ducked and covered, sputtering “How about a little privacy, please!”  Both women looked puzzled by my distress: what was the big deal?

It seemed like hours before the experts were satisfied but finally I, and my newly confined jumbly bits, were allowed to escape.  

Sam’s has been closed for many years.  Mrs. Morse has long since gone to the big Lingerie Department In the Sky.  If God is really a woman, I’m sure Mrs. Morse is now taking care of all Her foundation garment needs. 

And while I wish nothing but the best for the entrepreneur in the article, I won’t be shopping at any of her stores.  Some of us were born to walk a solitary path through the brassiere garden of life.

*The lovely painting Woman In A Garden is a work by Daniel Ridgway Knight.  The brassiere embellishment is not original to the painting.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , | 46 Comments

Earning the Respect of My Fellow WordPress Bloggers Has Me Humbled

Posted on May 22, 2011 by pegoleg

Open up a fresh can of comments!

I must be doing something right.  I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really raking in the comments lately. 

Here’s just a sampling, along with my replies:

 lv monogram vernis enthused: “Your place is normally valueble in my opinion. I am grateful!¡”

     Reply: Nobody has ever told me they were grateful for my blog.  I am humbled.  And knowing that you find it normally valuable (FYI, that’s spelled with an “a”) – that makes my day! 

Porfirio Bennick  raved:  “Great – I should definitely pronounce, impressed with your web site. I had no trouble navigating through all the tabs and related info ended up being truly easy to do to access. I recently found what I hoped for before you know it at all. Quite unusual. Is likely to appreciate it for those who add forums or anything, site theme . a tones way for your customer to communicate. Excellent task..”

     Reply: Thanks for stopping by! There aren’t really that many tabs to navigate, but I’m glad you didn’t have any trouble and you found what you hoped for.  What exactly were you hoping for? Not sure what you meant about “a tones way”, but thanks for pronouncing my blog- I’m sure that’s a good thing! 

High Waist Shorts gushed:  “You raise many queries in my thoughts; you wrote an excellent article, but this articlee is also thought provoking, and I am going to need to ponder it a bit more; I will be back soon. Check my blog…”

     Reply: Hey, there.  So happy I could raise many queries in your thoughts – that’s just what I was shooting for.  Feel free to ponder away. I’ll be sure to check out your blog, too, High Waist Shorts (BTW, those are coming back in style this year!)

algorithmic trading opined: “Hello, I think your site might be having browser compatibility issues. When I look at your blog in Opera, it looks fine but when opening in Internet Explorer, it has some overlapping. I just wanted to give you a quick heads up! Other then that, fantastic blog!”

     Reply:  Howdy Algo!  The overlapping seems like kind of a technical problem, and I’m not really good with computers.  But thanks for stopping by.

test and keep ipad 2 offered: “Great review! You actually covered some nice things on your blog. I came across it by using Google and I’ve got to admit that I already subscribed to the RSS, it’s very great ”

     Reply:  Hi!  I don’t think I reviewed anything.  But I’m glad to have you on my blog.  Tell your friends!

Lily Peddie confided: “Searched the google and found your internet site.!.I ought to say i am quite impressed and this information just arrived quite handy. I’ll bookmark and join rss feed. realy wonderful post thanks for sharing”

     Reply: I’m so glad you found me on the google. I generally go more for humor than for handy information but if you learned something here, I’m thrilled!   Don’t be a stranger.

lv monogram motard complained: “your site don¡¯t work on my iphone”

     Reply: Hey, are you related to lv monogram vernis?

shamtest griped: “I can’t seem to be able to reach this page from my smartphone!!”

     Reply: You’re not the only one who seems to be having that problem.  Not sure what to tell you.

Edmund Callicoat raved:  “I’m highly impressed with your writing skills and also with the layout on your weblog. Is this a paid theme or did you customize it yourself? either way keep up the nice quality writing, it is rare to see a great blog like this one today.”

     Reply: Shucks folks, I’m speechless.  Thank you so much!  Though I wouldn’t go so far as to say this kind of quality is “rare”.  In fairness, I know quite a few bloggers who are pretty good as well.  Check out the WordPress homepage for lots more great themes like this one!

I have been getting discouraged lately, I don’t mind saying.  My comment count has been way down.  Then I discovered this cache of comments that were never delivered for some reason.  There must be hundreds of them! 

This shows that my work on this blog is truly important.  It’s just the shot in the arm I needed.  

As soon as I figure out how to move the comments out of my spam folder, I’m planning to reply to every single one!

ps. If, instead of good comments like these, you are getting junk, check out WordPress’s helpful information about comment spam at: http://en.support.wordpress.com/unwanted-comments/

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