Textwitface will never catch on.
I refuse to surrender to the shallow waste of time communication media that has a grip on the thumbs of the world. I choose to walk through life with my head up attentive to my surroundings rather than head down furiously thumbing my phone. I want to actually see the bus that runs me over while I’m crossing the street. I’m not sure you can even call it a phone anymore. It seems like calling and receiving calls is not really a priority for the new technology phones.
I have just been allocated a new phone for work. It is part of my job description to talk to people on the phone. I’m going to call it Monty. It seems to me like an instrument of mostly spam, and when I think about spam, I recall “spamalot” from Monty Python………….. I’m not sure why, but I felt compelled to take you on the “connect the dots” that is my thought process.
Monty is a sleek-looking hand-held marvel from BU&U. I’ve changed the name to avoid shameless commercial promotion. Recall HAL from “2001 space odyssey”. Wow; “odyssey”, that’s a hard one to spell, and I’m a fairly accomplished speller. 12 years of nuns. I even had to read some of it in high school, “the odyssey” that is. Back to HAL. The next consecutive letter in the name spells IBM. You knew that. Again with the “connect the dots” in my head. I’m sorry about that.
A cursory glance at Monty gives you no indication that it is a phone. There is no ear-piece or mouth-piece visible. You also can’t see any numbers. I’ve had a cell phone since 1980 something. They used to have a button, usually green, that said “send, and another button, usually red, that said “end”, and a numeric keypad. Monty has nothing remotely resembling these ancient dinosaurs of telecom hieroglyphics. It doesn’t even say “phone” on the box!
I must say that it is very pretty. It is bright silver with black accents and a blue screen. Apparently, I can change the screen. I can put a picture of my kids on the screen. I see that a lot amongst Monty owners. I think I’ll put a picture of an old crank wall phone on my screen. That way I’ll know it’s a phone and not a photo album. I think I’ll go home when I want to see my kids. Maybe that’s why people put the kids picture there, they don’t get home much. Or when they do get home, they spend all of their time head down thumbing the Monty. That sounds sexual to me for some reason. I won’t connect the dots here. I would think that these devices would be a boom for chiropractors. We will soon start seeing a new type of chronic neck disorder that prevents you from looking up or any direction except down at Monty. Another physical change that will come is an evolution of the human hand. We will no longer need fingers. That thing at the end of your arm attached to your wrist will start to resemble a mitten. There will be little suction cups on one side of the mitten like an octopus has. Our thumbs will also become thinner, more dexterous, and grow another joint.
My new Monty does not even come with an instruction manual. You have to download it from the world-wide web. I actually like that feature. I wonder if all new Monty’s are like that. It’s good for the environment. Save a tree you know. After you click around for a few minutes, you finally find your model and down load the instruction manual in PDF. I’m not sure what PDF means. I used to think it meant personal flotation device, but I realized I was being a little dyslexic there. Hey, where did the “a” in float go? Don’t you love English. I feel so sorry for immigrants trying to learn English. I know one thing that PDF means. It means “pay me lots of money if you want to edit any of the text”. There are 156 pages of instructions for my new Monty. As I peruse the table of contents, I notice that there is very little about making a phone call. There are lots of the following, “Fn, QWERTY, SYM, Profiles, Settings, Sync, FDN, GPS, XM, UR Tones, AppCenter, MEdia, and Music”. I know what music means. I’m not sure why I need music on my Monty, but I am excited to get one of the answers right. I hope they are grading on a curve and there are monkeys in the class or else I’m doomed.
Now I know why everyone is going back to school. It has nothing to do with the economy, or the degraded job market or re-tooling our skills for the next millennium. It’s so we can get a degree in Programing Monty. I think that would qualify as a BS degree.
Monty is designed for “textwitface”, not calling your mom to say “hi” on Mothers day. I miss the old Monty. My trusty old friend that was mostly used to chat about when and where you were going to get together with people. You remember that. People used to talk to each other and actually get together in close proximity in the same room or park or ball game or restaurant. As we become more “connected”, we are actually creating a great disconnection with our fellow-man. Nobody really talks anymore. We don’t have to, we’ve got textwitface now.
I think I’ll invent a device with numbers, an ear-piece for hearing and a mouth-piece for speaking and that’s all. I’m going to call it a telephone. You push the numbered buttons, it rings, and someone says, “hello”. It will be something like the machine that Alexander Bell fellow designed long ago. Do you think anyone will buy it?
Good talk, S
What’s in your garage?
As our economy teeters on the brink of recovery (maybe), the question I have for the greater population is, “what did you learn”. As we are in our second year of “mini depression”, what are we doing different today than we were before the crash.
Did we sell the SUV and buy a scooter or a bike? Chances are slim that we were able to unload the Suburban because no one wants to buy it. Are we at least driving it less? What about our “consumer spending” in general. Monthly economic reports tell us that our spending is starting to “rebound”. If spending goes up, then savings goes down. Isn’t that how we got into this mess? As a country, we were spending 106% of our earnings.
Currently our net savings rate is on the rise. Is it un-American to suggest that maybe we should choose the frugal path in our daily decisions? We don’t like to be told “no”. We especially don’t like to tell ourselves no. We have confused “need” and “want”. Do we have a duty to support businesses small and large with unchecked spending, or do we have a duty to ourselves, our family and our planet? When faced with tough financial choices, we are unlikely to bite the bullet and turn the train around 180 degrees. It’s uncomfortable.
I was raised in a family that never had to do with-out. We pretty much always got what we needed and what we wanted. This sort of training tends to blur the line between the two. Thank you mom and dad for giving us a safe, loving and comfortable life. I have “the grass is always greener on the other side” itis. I wish I had a leaner less comfortable upbringing. It’s taken me a long time, and a lot of wasted money to appreciate what I really need in life. I happen to have a very good mentor right now. I must confess, I’m still not very good at it, but I’m hopeful for a full recovery.
Consider this scenario. What if this is as good as it gets? Maybe your current salary, which is half of what it was 3 years ago, is actually what you are worth in the marketplace today and forever. Maybe that’s really what you were worth 3 years ago, but the false economy also paid false wages. What if all these businesses that are getting by with greatly reduced numbers of employees never hire back those laid off? We should be budgeting, planning and spending as though this is the case. ” “Frugal chic” is the new buzz phrase. Let’s make it a race to the top of the savings rate.
Here is my economic recovery plan for the country. CLEAN OUT YOUR GARAGE! Put the cars in there. That is what they are for. If you took a calculator out to the garage and added up the cost of all that junk that you thought you needed, you’ve probably got a couple of house payments in there. Let’s have a national garage sale weekend! We could call it a cleansing. Give everything to your favorite charity. Let’s get our cars back in the garage. The difficult part will be resisting the urge to fill it up again. Think “frugal chic”.
Lessons from the crash should be life altering. Teach your children how to save and do with out. The generation that the great crash of 1929 affected most tragically is now dead. This could be why we crashed again. As a nation, we forgot how to save for a rainy day.
I have great hope and optimism for the future of the United States. I am convinced that from here forward, our national and our personal economy will be a more scaled down version of what it has been the last 25 years. I am not sure that we see this as a positive effort yet, but that will surely come. I’m not afraid to let the Germans or the Chinese have greater personal wealth and debt than I do,…………………………. are you?
Good talk,
Sam
I’ve discovered a place with perfect racial harmony.
We have a difficult time in this world accepting and trusting people who are not like us. The saying “birds of a feather flock together”, is not just a saying. We all seek out our own kind. We shrink from and are suspicious of those who are not our kind. We are a prejudice society. We instinctively categorize people we see every day. Pay attention to it next time you are walking down a crowded street. Some of the obvious categories are skin color and gender. Less apparent classifying we do could be financial status, smell, and attire. Some subconscious factors at work are dialect, or how a person speaks, size, is somebody very over weight, or very short in stature, and gait or posture, do they shuffle or walk slowly for their age, do they slouch when they sit. In addition to having an active personal or political reason to prejudge someone for superficial reasons, every one develops prejudices for other people in a passive manner. It’s an evolutionary self-preservation response.
This topic came to me after spending some time in Los Angeles over the holidays. I’ve travelled to the four corners of this country of ours. I don’t think LA has a greater mix of ethnicity than any other part of the country, but the different cultures seem to cross over and intermingle more there than anywhere else. In Manhattan for example, the ethnic cultures all seem to stick to a certain neighborhood or part of town. It’s that way in Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, and Miami as well. But in LA, all the races and cultures cross over and interact daily. There are still neighborhoods like Korea town, Elysian Park Heights, and Compton that have an obvious color, but generally people move amongst each other in LA. I won’t say that they move amongst each other peacefully because there is a long history of racial violence that we’ve all seen live on the evening news.
I found a place in Los Angeles that seems to be a safe haven for all ethnicities to interact, practice their own special rituals and religions and do so without any fear of ethnic persecution or violence. It is a beautiful park with thousands of acres. There are perfectly manicured lawns with an array of trees and plants from cactus to pine to magnolia. Energizing fountains and tasteful statuary grace the landscape. I’ve visited this place several times but I’ve never noticed this racial harmony before.
I spent some time at this park on Christmas day. The first thing that made me take notice were the two traffic cops moving cars into and out of the park. The smooth flow of rows and rows of cars into the park could serve as a lesson to LA’s finest. Once inside the park, the calm rush of vehicles seems to disappear into the many arteries leading to all corners of this huge haven. I took the first left turn and noticed small groups of people gathered all over the lawns. Soon the various ethnic and religious groups started to catch my eye. There were Latin people next to Indian people next to Muslim people next to Black people next to white people next to Asian people. There were no disagreements. In fact there was a very engaging and cordial atmosphere. I found the spot I was looking for. There was a group of Latin people to my left and some Asian (maybe Philipino or Indonesian) people to my right. We made some small talk, Merry Christmas, nice day, etc. People said “excuse me”, “ have a nice day”,and “goodby”. The experience was frankly unbelievable.
I spent about an hour at the park and then drove out in the same calm pace with which I entered. I started to wonder why such harmony existed here in this park. Maybe it was the “good will toward men” attitude of the season. I suspect not. It’s the park itself. Was this the sort of calm and coexistence that Martin Luther King and Ghandi worked so hard and died to achieve? I am also convinced that as we all leave the gates of this park, prejudice as usual will shortly return. We clearly have the capacity to “all get along”. I’ve seen it. The hard thing is to live it, believe it, teach it, and expect nothing less.
There are thousands of parks like the one in LA all over the world. We should make an effort to spend more time in them. The one in LA is right across the street from Disney studios. It’s called Forest Lawn. It’s a cemetery.
Good talk, S
How do you defend a friend against a friend?
I haven’t written for a while. I apologize for that. Not to my readers, but to myself. This blog is for me. It’s been a therapy of sorts, and it’s free. I wonder if I can send a bill to my medical insurance company.
Things at the winery have come to a crawl. We are doing mindless work, painting barrels, making fire wood out of old barrels, steam cleaning concrete floors, lots of busy work. I find myself lost in my own thoughts. I’m not really engaged in the wine business. There are two reasons for that. One, the work is not new anymore, and two, I’m starting to believe that this is all there is. I haven’t worked for an hourly wage since 1988. It looks like it’s back, and this time to stay.
My business plan “proposal” for a new position at the company was enthusiastically received by the head wine maker 3 weeks ago, but has since slipped into a black hole of vacations, the season, and I don’t care about you. I’ve decided that the winery that I work for doesn’t really care about selling wine, they just want to look cool making it. The only way that can exist is if the owners have so much money that they don’t need to sell wine to support the effort. Good for them. Where do I sign up?
I’m changing my approach to the job search. In the last year plus I’ve written 2 business plans that didn’t work out for various reasons, interviewed and applied for 113 jobs, almost taken 6, and started one that I had to quit. All of this has hardened me into really interviewing hard and trying to find a company that has a vision, a plan, and adequate cash to implement both. As the underemployment clock ticks, I become more resigned to my current hourly position. Maybe I don’t need to work for a company that is clever and progressive. How about if I just work for the one that will pay me anything.
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What happens when no one will say boo to the racist elephant in the room?
If you are invited to a dinner party by a good friend that is well attended by other good friends and potentially new friends, how do you conduct yourself in the presence of an obvious racial invective that everyone clearly heard? Not just a random slur, a comment that struck one individual at the dinner table specifically.
I had the opportunity to be in this bubble recently. One of my hosts said something unfortunately racial. It wasn’t directed at the person sitting next to me specifically, but she was the one that ended up catching the shot due to her ethnicity. I must report that I am not pleased with my chosen response at the time. Along with the other 8 guests, I chose to ignore the comment. Being the obscenely curious person that I am, I made a conscious effort to assess the reaction of the crowd. Most of the guests, made a conspicuous effort to ignore the comment. As though it really didn’t happen. The non-white person however was clearly moved.
During past wars in which musket style guns were used, the opposing soldiers would often fire at the enemy based on the tell-tale puff of smoke emitted by the fire arm because they could not really see the enemy. This is how the atmosphere at the dinner table was. A shot was fired, there was a foul-smelling thick smoke that just hovered over the table for seconds. It seemed like forever, but I’m sure it was really only about 3 seconds. We all knew where to return fire, but no one did. My quick read of the facial expressions at the table told me to hide and move on quickly. Except for one. The girl on my right, whose parents are from the Philipines, was clearly hurt by the comment. I don’t know how, but she quickly moved on also.
I am certain that I did not do the right thing, but I’m not sure what I should have done or said. Both the invector and the invectee feel bad, sad, hurt and embarrassed. The guests are aghast and scurrying for the nearest hole. After a week of reflection, I’ve decided that one thing I could have quickly said was “you didn’t mean that”. But what if the slurrer didn’t pick up the cue and agree with me quickly. Then I’m guilty of being righteous and confrontational to my host. Nothing said was the best response at the time.
Good talk, S
17.5% Unemployment as of November 1, 2009. Good People Gone Missing
What would happen to life as we know it if all the unemployed people today did not go back into the work force. Or, as a group, what if they all ended up gainfully employed at or near the basic minimum wage.
Some people may never recover from this current economic cycle. According to the Bureau of Labor and Statistics (BLS) through November of 2009, The unemployment rate is right at 10%, down from 10.2% in October. Congratulations to that .2%! The greatest number of people within that unemployed 10% are people from the ages of 16 to 25. The next largest number of people is in the age group from 50 to 65. I’m not sure what the point of counting our unemployed 16 year olds is. Daddy still pays for them.
The group to worry about are the 50 plus year old people, the daddies and mommies. As the struggle to find work continues for this group of people, many of them are starting to “check out”. Former high salaried business people are being forced to settle for work that is low-paying and uninspiring. All of these workers take a job like this and continue to look for something that will pay more money. The problem is that the better job is not presenting itself. Also, these former captains of industry are becoming discouraged and beaten down. They are giving up. The current lousy-paying job is becoming comfortable. People are learning to live within the budget that these jobs provide.
Another unexpected consequence of this trend is that this group of people come off the unemployment list. That is to say they come off the list that we all hear about on the news. When you look really hard at the BLS charts and graphs, you will find that way at the bottom of the page there is a line called “total unemployed”. This includes the 10% plus another 7.5%. The 7.5% are the “underemployed”. Officially, they are described as marginally attached workers, discouraged workers, and employed part-time for economic reasons.
The term “marginally attached” has you curious doesn’t it. Here is the quote from the BLS.
“Marginally attached workers are persons who currently are neither working nor looking for work but indicate that they want and
are available for a job and have looked for work sometime in the recent past. Discouraged workers, a subset of the marginally attached,
have given a job-market related reason for not looking currently for a job. Persons employed part-time for economic reasons are those
who want and are available for full-time work but have had to settle for a part-time schedule”.
THE UNEMPLOYMENT RATE IN THE UNITED STATES IS 17.5%.
Would there be panic and chaos in the streets if people knew that our unemployment rate is really 17.5%? Maybe. Or maybe we will just learn to live with less. Maybe you will start to see people parking their cars in the garage instead of on the street. Now there will be room because they had to sell all those must have toys, gadgets, and waste of money items stored in the garage. Maybe now we will have to drive cars that actually fit in the garage. The word on the street is that the cause of the mortgage crisis is too much stuff. Everyone needed to buy a house, or a bigger house to put all their junk in. We couldn’t really afford that new house after we bought all that stuff, but we figured out a way to convince lenders that we could.
If this sounds vaguely familiar, it’s a little bit plagiarized. In the 70′s, the late George Carlin did a comedy bit called “a place for your stuff”. The punch line was that the only reason that we buy houses is that we need a place to put all of our stuff. As we get more stuff, we need a bigger house. I don’t think Mr. Carlin was an economic wizard, but he was sure spot on with his take on our penchant for consumption.
Good talk, S
Red wine is red, white wine is white, and rose is both.
One of the restaurants I worked in long ago did not serve a blush or rose style of wine. We got a lot of requests for it, but we never pulled the trigger on buying any. One night, one of the women who would constantly ask me for a blush wine came in. And once again, she asked me for the wine that we didn’t have. Being tired of saying “no”, I said, “of course we do”. I poured a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and added a dash of Cabernet. Viola! A blush is born. The woman loved it, and I was a hero.
Today we start the week-long ”top off” process at the winery. Every month, you have to top off the oak wine barrels as they lose up to a litre a month. There is an evaporation through the pores of the oak. This also serves to concentrate the flavors of the wine. You could just let it go except you get an increase in surface area inside the barrel which increases the opportunity for oxidation. Concentration good, oxidation bad. Oxidized wine is delicious on salads with olive oil, a little garlic, salt, pepper, a dash of Dijon mustard, and the secret ingredient, a smidge of orange juice or red grapefruit juice.
Our process for refilling the barrels is a little unclear to me. We use one wine for most of the barrels. It is a high sugar content third pressing of Cabernet. It’s just called press wine. A grape is kind of like an egg except there are three parts to the inside. To get to the sweetest part of the grape you have to squeeze it really hard. If you do this too early, you will also press all the tannins from the skin and seeds into the wine. If you wait until most of the juice and tannin has leeched out of the grape, and then engage that final press at the end of the crush process, you end up with really sweet juice/wine. This is what we use to top off the barrels. We use the same wine regardless of the grape.
That is what has me confused. We use a Cabernet grape for Sangiovese, Merlot, Cabernet and Zinfandel. The year is always a match. This could be a common practice. I’ll find out and report back to you.
I worked out on the tennis court with the old guys this weekend. I learned not to call it “playing” tennis while I was mired in the destitute dregs of unemployment and my tennis game was getting really good. Proper choice of language is a huge key to getting along with people. After the work out, there is typically a bull session.
I can put myself completely outside a conversation that I am actually in. The topics of conversation were the medical care situation and the pending medical bill in congress, and the economy. The gentleman leading the medical care chat was about to travel to San Francisco for some sort of routine medical procedure. The gentleman leading the economy chat was an accountant who is having difficulties with some of his businesses and his clients businesses. One thing that has occurred with the down turn in the economy is that people are more focused on themselves and their own perspective on multi faceted topics. I am engaged, asking questions, citing pertinent studies that I have read. The whole time I kind of checked out mentally and started thinking to myself, “what happened to the days when we drank beer after sports, talked about girls, sports, and girls”? I miss that.
Good talk, S
You’d never guess. So don’t.
We all do it. Even animals do it. It’s one way they survive. Animals don’t have nifty little sayings to guide them through life. “Don’t judge a book by its’ cover” is one of those worn out sayings that animals don’t have to endure. To be accurate, the saying is, “you can’t judge a book by its’ cover”. Why then, do we all do it?
Was it done 100 years ago? What about thousands of years ago before there were actually books? Do you think Wyat Earp could spot a bad guy as soon as he walked through those swinging saloon doors.
I can think of one good reason to make those quick judgements, safety. We develop fear, fight, and flight instincts throughout our lives that tell us instantly that we may be in the wrong place or near the wrong sort of people. This is a good thing most of the time. It can however limit our potential to experience new people places and things. (new nouns)
I was in Mexico with my wife and we were looking for a late night dinner. We had flown and bussed all day, paid way too much for everything and were ready to eat, sleep and start our white sand, blue water days anew tomorrow. But for now, at nearly midnight, we were really hungry. I had coaxed the recommendation of a locals restaurant out of our hotel desk man. We were off to “Bronco Billy’s”. I was a little skeptical about the place being a locals favorite based on the name, but I am a trusting soul. The walk from our hotel to BB’s was a little scary. However, I wasn’t really at all scared. As a Southern California boy, I’ve always been at home with all things Mexican. We walked down a dark street-slash-alley for about 3/4 of a mile. We encountered stray pit bulls, wandering drunk Mexican men, and an occasional loud scolding from an angry wife in a window above directed at who the hell knows. My wife held my hand so tight I could hear my digits start to crack. She urged a hasty retreat to the hotel about every half block. I greeted the rogue male’s we encountered in the dark with some banal mexican greeting, scared the dogs away with my cowboy boots, and we continued on to Bronco Billy’s. It really didn’t look as if we were in a commercial zone. There were no businesses in sight. We walked on and soon, lights and human activity came into view just a few blocks ahead. BB’s was a small corner taqueria. We walked in and found a table. We were the only white people in sight. The restaurant was painted all in lime green and had a big ice chest in the corner which I presume was the refrigerator. There was the standard salsa, onion/cilantro, marinated carrots and jalapeno bar, and a cooler with Coke, Mexican soda’s and Mexican beer. The cooks had soiled aprons and there were lots of flies. Most people from the U.S. of A. probably would have walked out long before this point. My nose and my view of the food they were preparing told me to stay even though my date was still pulling on me to go back to the hotel. I got in line, ordered what the people in front of me did, picked up a couple of Mexican soda’s and went to our table. The food was a hit! My wife had never had better mexican food. If we hadn’t persisted through all the tattered and formidable book covers presented to us along the way, we never would have found Bronco Billy’s.
This night really set the tone for the whole trip. We never went to or ate at any of the tourist venue’s the entire trip. We never got sick, we had delicious food and had most of our beer bought for us by the locals. Mexican men really love tall white girls. I recommend that you bring one every time you travel there……….Wow! That was really the long way around a point.
I still judge a book by its cover. We all do.
I met a woman at the beer place last night in St. Helena. The tavern was full of people who were either duck fans or beaver fans (ref. college football, Oregon). She was dressed in a dark sweat shirt, had mussed up greying hair, muddy half-boots, and a really loud hoop and holler for the beavers. My first impression of this woman based on her book cover was white trash, or maybe angry lesbian. We got to talking as the night went on and I found out that I was oh so wrong about my first take. She was pleasant, intelligent, gracious and quick-witted. She was there to watch the game, but not as an obnoxious fan. She was really just commuter stuck because the road was closed due to an accident. It turned out that she was a vice president and operations manager of several shopping malls in the area for Simon DeBartolo. She also has a small farm/ranch, and rescue’s and rehabilitates slaughter horses. Sometimes it’s fun to be wrong.
Another recent encounter of this nature happened to me last week. I’ve been looking for new house. Grandma, my landlord, informed me that she was not going to be renting to me anymore starting asap. Through a referral from a friend, I met Al and Marilyn. They are an older retired couple. They have a rental house in which they have a space available for me in the time frame that I require. We met at the rental home and Marilyn had forgotten keys. Al gave her a stern and uncomfortable public scolding. While she drove back home to retrieve the keys, Al and I made small talk for about 20 minutes. Al is an oddly figitty guy. He’s one of those people who doesn’t look you in the eye when they speak to you. He’s also very good at one way conversation. Not much of a listener. He actually turned his back on me while he spoke. I never know what to make of people like that. Are they really bored with me or are they schizophrenic. Either way, it’s pretty annoying. I was so annoyed, I said to him, “clearly I make you uncomfortable for some reason.” “I apologize if I’ve said or done something impolite”. How can I remedy the situation”. With his back turned to me, he said, “oh no, you’re fine”. “I’m just so angry with my wife for forgetting those keys”. “I don’t make mistakes”. I should have fallen down on my knees. Clearly I was in the presence of God. I continued with my small talk probe. It turns out that Al and Marilyn are Napa and Humbolt land barons. They come from farming and logging families that had loads of land. Al was starting to come around. I had him kind of looking at me side ways. You’ll never guess what Al did for work for 30 years. He was a communications teacher at the local high school and junior college. You’d think a teacher would be able to look you in the eye. Maybe he just got used to talking to people while writing on a blackboard.
It’s always a treat for me to peel the layers back on people. It gives you an insight into their perspective. But even as the layers come off, you still never know what you may find down deep. You may find a gem, or you may just find a rotten onion. Either way, I enjoy the peeling process.
And……………………………………………………I’m still going to judge people and books and everything else by it’s appearance.
Good talk, S
An obvious way to save your marriage.
I had a big day at the winery today. We bottled a thousand cases. The previous record was 745. It seemed to go by seamlessly. I must be getting used to the work. There wasn’t much of the “stop and chat”. We pretty much had our heads in the game all day.
I learned a little bit about why the same wine could taste different from bottle to bottle. I’m sure there are loads of reasons, but one of them is different age time in the barrel. I don’t know if other wineries do this (I will find out), but we don’t bottle everything from the same crush at the same time. For example, you could buy a bottle of 2006 Cabernet that was bottled after 18 months in the barrel. Or, you could buy the same wine, with the same label that was aged in the barrel for 24 months. The label does say “barrel aged 18 to 24 months”. The flavor profile can be remarkably different. I’m not sure what the answer is as a consumer. If you are really worried about it, I suppose you could contact the wine maker for detailed bottling information.
My old room-mate Morena worked next to me today. We have worked together for 3 months. We also lived together for a short time. That was a disaster. I wrote about it earlier. The living conditions were abysmal. I had to leave. Morena speaks very little English, so we don’t talk much. She has a husband and a young son. I think he’s about 6.
Through our manager/interpreter, she asked my advice today about something. I was flattered and curious to know why she wanted my opinion. She said it was because I was the oldest one here. I got over being flattered instantly.
What criteria do we use when we seek opinions from others? We usually ask people we know, a brother or sister, a close friend, a parent, maybe even a priest or a bartender. This may not be the best way to get objective thoughts from people. Your friends and relatives may tell you what you want to hear. We all think we have friends that will steer us away from malodorous decisions, but that may not be so.
I have only 4 people who I call friends. The two friends that I have the shortest tenure with clock in at 25 years. The other two are 40 and 45 years. I have had this very discussion with all of them, and all 5 of us agree. If one of my good friends was hell-bent on making a knuckle headed decision, I’d let them, and still be their friend. The best place to get sound objective advice is either from total strangers, or from someone who you know casually, but who is not really considered a friend.
Unknown to me. Someone considered me a safe place for advice. I’m a casual acquaintance, just the right age, and I am in the opportunity zone. I hope this advice giving doesn’t become a trend. It’s much easier to dish it out anonymously on a blog, for example, than in person. There’s a lot of pressure to do the right thing. Do I give it? Do I decline? What message does either decision send to the advice asker? (funny aside, spell check doesn’t like the word “asker”)
If I decide to give it, and it doesn’t work out for them, will I be called to task? It’s making me shaky just writing about it. Imagine how nervous I was at the time.
I agreed to give my opinion to Morena. Remember, this is all going through an interpreter. The Interpreter explained to me that Morena wants to do something nice for her husband and wants my input on some ways to do that. It sounds like something that I may know something about, so I prompt the interpreter for more specifics. When I heard what Morena wanted my opinion on, I nearly dropped a whole case of wine. I had to hear it again because I really wasn’t sure that I had heard the question clearly. The interpreter repeated it. I did hear it correctly. I was so shocked by the question that I thought that it might be some sort of a joke or a trick that the Mexicans I work with are always playing on me. I was assured by the interpreter that the discussion was indeed genuine. Next I asked if this was even a proper discussion to be having with a Mexican woman. I have been schooled by my work mates about how much more proper Mexican women are than their American counter parts. The interpreter confirmed to me that the discussion would be proper because she brought it up. Worried that I would say something stupid, I asked for a couple minutes to think about it.
My brain was a maelstrom of indecision and admiration. I was thinking about how lucky Morena’s husband was, and how much she must want to make him happy. If this is Mexican proper, American women should take note. At the same time, I was contemplating what my answer would be. I was not really sure if I wanted to give an answer. It was a very personal question. I told Morena that I thought that her question, and her motives for asking it were admirable. I said that if more women would be willing to take the steps that she was, there would be fewer divorces.
Good talk, S
It’s a good idea to proof read a few times. I forgot to write what Morena’s question was…………………………………………………………………………………………. Morena wanted to know what was my favorite position during sex.
Opportunity for all?
I met a woman last night in the check out line at the grocery store. She was not quite black, had dread locks, assorted tattoos and piercings. She was a tall woman and judging by her tone, diction, and posture, a very confident person.
She was buying 6 paks of bottled water and trying to work the cashier for some sort of coupon deal. Now I’m intrigued with the woman. I love to negotiate for everything. The deal wasn’t really within the guidelines but the cashier made it work. (always negotiate) Next, the woman started to complain to the cashier about how “there wasn’t any reggae music in the Napa valley”. She said “she had to drive about an hour and a half away to see some good reggae”. At this discussion, I rolled my eyes to myself. At least I think I did it to myself. Come to think of it, I think the cashier busted me. Sometimes I forget to keep things to myself. I quickly injected myself into the conversation by agreeing with tall reggae girl. I was up for a little harmless fun. I told her that “I had been looking for some “ska” music without success”. She said, “good luck with that”. Then she said something that was a little disorienting for me. She asked me and the cashier “why there wasn’t anything in this area for lower-income people”. She said that, “this whole area was just for rich people”. Just to keep the talk going, I agreed with her. I said that I couldn’t understand that either. She paid her bill and was off in a swirl of hair and discontent.
I was thinking that she must not be too poor if she is paying money for something that she could get for free. She really floored me. I couldn’t help but wonder if she really didn’t get it or if she was trying to change the world, or just the Napa valley.
As bad as it sounds, maybe there is not opportunity for all here. I don’t see much poverty in Napa. Even the Mexicans that live in the poorer part of town would not consider themselves poor. They are happy, proud, and working to elevate the next generation. I can tell you this from first hand experience. I work with Mexicans and I have lived with them.
I wonder what reggae girl would think of Bend Oregon. I was shut out for work in Bend, but I’ve found terrific opportunity here in Napa. There is one homeless guy in Bend Oregon. I suspect he lives in a comfortable warm house and just begs for money because it works. Good for him. That’s what I call creating your own opportunities. Maybe reggae girl could move in with him.
The curious thing about reggae girls’ complaint is that she was almost demanding that she be let in to the club and couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t let her in. I’m feeling a little elitist even though I don’t have much money and I don’t have much of a domicile. These things will change, but not anytime soon. Maybe I am considered rich. I can get into the club, but not as a member. I can just walk in and pretend I belong there. I am not confused about why I’m not a member of the club. Maybe I am a member and just don’t know it. I don’t think reggae girl will be able to negotiate or entitle her way in to the club. She’s going to have to work for it like everyone else.
If she wants to fake it like me, she’s going to have to cut her hair, pull out the piercings and burn off the tattoos. I’m not sure that would even do it for her. There are not many black people here. I suspect she would be questioned. I am entitled in a way because I look like every one else. That entitles me to certain access that may not be available to people who do not look like me.
This entry is a little rambling but too bad, it’s my blog.
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Nothing about wine today. Sorry.
Good talk, S
Am I working for money or benefits?
As my job search in Northern California continues, I have started to consider a new factor that will weigh heavily on my decisions. Benefits.
Currently, I have no benefits from my employer. No medical, no vacation, no life, no sick days, no nuthin’. My medical benefits from my last job will run out in March. I will not be able to afford to buy any type of medical insurance. I may have a new subject to write about. Can you go to a hospital emergency room for a root canal?
I don’t really mind being sick, or living with aches and pains. I’ve always done that, but I’ve always had health insurance to fall back on when something really broke. As I follow the medical insurance policy debate in congress, I find myself swayed to the “approval” side out of necessity. I am not convinced that any of the public medical insurance plans as proposed will work, but I vote “yes”. I’ve never been a fan of public entitlements, but it’s interesting how your opinion can change based on your current perspective.
Do we ever really have an objective opinion or assessment, or do we take sides and make decisions based on what is best for us and our immediate family? Few of us get to make life and death decisions for anyone but ourselves, but if we did, would we be willing to give up something dear to us for the greater good? Of course supporting the medical care plan is not a life or death decision for us as individual citizens. It has however, made me think about what I am willing to give up in taxes I pay to benefit the rest of the country. That’s really what all these legislative decisions come down to at a basic level. What can we afford. It’s really too bad that money has to be the “decider”, a word coined by a recent president. Maybe the president and congress and the courts are not really the “deciders”. Perhaps the fourth branch of government, “money”, makes all the decisions for us.
Right now, I believe that I am under taxed. I am guessing that this is not a widely held view. When I consider all the group services that I have access to like security, electricity, water, roads, and government, I start to wonder how it all gets paid for. The simple answer is in the word “group”. We all pay for all these services and we all use them to varying degrees. The problem comes with the “varying degrees” part, but there really is not an efficient way to enjoy all these public amenities as individuals. It will never be fair. A simple example is the bar that I frequent to access the internet. I never spend more than $3 at a time here. I nurse a soda water for hours. There are rarely any internet patrons at this bar. All the other patrons are buying enough drinks to cover me. It works for me! Maybe I should thank each of them.
I suspect that my “under taxed” opinion will change over the next ten years. I hope I get to include medical care in the scope of the public services that I pay taxes for. I’ll be sure to thank healthy young people when that happens.
I’m going back to work at the winery tomorrow after 4 days off. We are bottling next week. I am not enjoying bottling as much as I did the first couple of days. The best thing about bottling is that you get free wine. The novelty has worn off. Now I have to figure out how to stretch my neck, back, and shoulders to accomodate repetitive stress. Also, we work outside. The temps are in the 30′s for the first 2 hours of the day. I know this sounds whiney, too bad. I’ve never really worked under these sorts of conditions before. Even when I worked construction, I could warm up. And I was never subject to any type of aches and pains from assembly line work. I have a great new respect for any type of assembly line or manufacturing worker.
The money stinks, and you work hard. I’ve never really thought about it before, but most of the jobs in the world fall into that category. I am working toward easy work and good money. That is the American dream. Or maybe it’s the American illusion. Maybe everyone thinks they work hard for not enough money. Come to think of it, I’ve never heard anyone tell me how overpaid they are. I certainly have never been overpaid.
Anyone out there who is overpaid, please write me a comment. I’d love to learn how you managed it. I promise I won’t rat you out. Nothing illegal please.
Good talk, S.
