Category: Life

Posted in Life

A generous stranger or a suspicious character?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The big dog and I met another interesting person on our walk yesterday. The Independence Day dawn was quiet as we made our way through the sports complex and headed home.

Just down the road, I saw a young man riding toward us on his bike, holding a couple of fishing rods. I pass guys like him all the time, usually fishing off small bridges over the drainage canals.

As we got closer, he stopped and seemed to be waiting for us. But rather than being impressed by the giant dog, he asked, “Would you like a free fishing pole?” I was impressed by his ability to ride a bike holding not a couple but three rods.

I smiled and replied, “No thank you.” Even if my hands weren’t full of dog leash and a blue bag of poop, I would have declined. I just sold a couple of unused fishing poles in a garage sale since it turns out fishing doesn’t really interest me.

Part of me immediately thought, “He’ll probably ask for money.” Been there; done that. “Here’s something free…how about a few bucks?” I don’t know where he got them. Maybe he was being generous. Maybe he was selling dad’s stuff to get a few bucks. Maybe fishing didn’t interest him, either.

I hate it when I feel suspicious of someone I’ve just met or don’t know, who poses no threat to me. I want to think positively about people, but somewhere I learned not to trust…anyone. I don’t like feeling that way.

And now that I’ve uploaded the above picture, I see he was riding his bike in bare feet. He’s more daring than me!

Posted in cookies, Food, Life

Taste-free cookies?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Anita Austvika on Unsplash

I actually went into the bank last week to get change for a twenty from a teller. I don’t do it often, but I wanted some smaller bills to pay for my haircut plus a tip.

Anyway, I’ve known one of the tellers there for a long time, and when I waved, she asked, “Are you still making cookies?” Of course we are. Our little cottage cookie business is doing okay. (Backseatgracebakery.com)

There was no one else in line, so we had a quick conversation. She told me her youngest daughter had asked about cookies. It might have been for a birthday or graduation. She quickly added, “But she’s got all those allergies.”

I said, “Well, we’ve made gluten-free, dairy-free cookies for my daughter-in-law.” Gluten-free flour is easy to find. We’ve also used plant-based butter in some recipes.

“How about nut-free and egg-free?”

“Well, I’ll have to make sure the flavoring has no nut products.” In my head I’m wondering if there is an egg substitute.

I texted my wife about the possibility of making gluten-free, dairy-free, egg-free, and nut-free cookies. She replied, “Sure, but they’re taste-free.”

I can’t even imagine navigating this world with that many food-based allergies. You’d carry an epipen with you at all times, just in case. I would make all my own food, so I knew what the ingredients were. How could you ever go to a restaurant?

I don’t think she’ll be ordering cookies from us. We can do it, but the ingredients are pricey and the product isn’t tasty. Plus, our kitchen isn’t completely gluten-free, nut-free, dairy-free, and egg-free. The liability would be overwhelming.

We do have a rolling pin that we only use for gluten-free flour. We bought it when our niece came to visit so we could make some quiche for her. We keep that rolling pin in a zip lock bag for those times when we need to be gluten-free.

Plant-based butter is a little greasier than real butter. The cookies are look a little gray, but taste pretty good when flooded with delicious icing.

How do you cater to clientele for whom every day eating is a hazard? I’m not sure you can.

Posted in Life, movies

A whole different movie experience

Posted on by William Douthwaite

My wife and I had a chance to go see a movie the other night. For a few weeks we had wanted to see “Mission Impossible: Final Reckoning”, the eighth and final chapter of the series.

When I went to buy our tickets online, I was surprised to find only three rows of seats to choose from. I thought, “Maybe the rest of the theater is sold out.” I nabbed a couple of good seats. (More on that later.) I knew we would buy popcorn, so when I was offered the chance to buy some along with our tickets, I added it to our checkout total.

I saw very few people as we walked into the movie complex. An attendant scanned my online tickets, and we headed towards the concessions. When I arrived, a young person handed me a large bag of popcorn. When my tickets were scanned, the concessions got a notification, bagged up my popcorn, and met me at the counter. Impressive.

I forgot to put a drink into my wife’s purse, so we had to buy one there. You don’t order from a live person. You poke a finger at a kiosk, scan a credit card, and someone brings a bottle of water to you. Again, impressive.

The reason I only had three rows from which to choose seats is our theater only had three rows of comfy reclining seats. We were in the back row, but we had great seats. I’ll bet the whole theater only had forty comfy reclining seats. Nice.

What a different moviegoing experience. Assigned seats, comfy reclining seats, and no wait prepaid concessions. Going to the theater is a much different experience from buying a ticket at a window, waiting in line for popcorn, and finding an unoccupied seat.

I think I like it.

Posted in Life

You’re early

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I thought I was doing the right thing. As the mileage on the new car passed nine thousand miles and the oil life percentage sunk to twenty percent, I made an appointment for service. I feared I had waited too long. But it turns out I acted too soon.

When I first started driving, oil changes came every 3,500 miles. As recently as 2003, that was the recommended service interval for our Chevy Traverse. However, in the world of Honda, the mileage lenthened to five thousand miles or so. That was nice, until a service manager told me to wait till the oil life percentage hit thirty before I brought it in. It took seven to eight thousand miles to hit that mark.

So when our newest car, a 2025, hit eight thousand miles, I though I was close. But the oil life was still at 50%. Okay, I guess I had more time. I checked it every week or so, and finally it go to thirty percent. I made an appointment and brought it in.

After I found my seat in the waiting room, the service representative came over to ask if the maintenance light had gone on.

I anwered, “No. But I figured I was at the right mileage.”

Unless the maintenance light comes on, Honda doesn’t want to see you for service. The service rep said, “I’ll have to see if we can get you in.”

When I asked for more information, he explained, “Sensors know your driving habits, and when you’ll need service.” In other words, the car will let me know when it’s time.

In a sense, here’s an example of artificial intellegence getting a foothold in my decision making process. The machine controls me. I respond to its prompts.

I suppose a self-driving car could take itself in for service. I would not be involved.

That’s a little scary. i used to change my own oil and filters. I used to do my own tuneup.

I’ve almost been replaced.

Posted in Life

An unexpected early morning treat

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The big dog (Willow the Great Dane) and I got out for our walk at sunrise on Thursday. Just around the bend from our house we passed a young, tall, lean, bearded gentleman from the first house on the street. He was dressed for much cooler weather in a knit cap, long sleeve hoodie, and sweatpants. Really? It was already 78 degrees. Temperatures were on their way to the 90s. Welcome to Florida, buddy.

We’ve passed him many times on our walks. But today he had a red, white, and blue rocket popsicle hanging out of his mouth. His hands were on his phone as the frozen treat stuck out from his lips.

My first thought: Breakfast of champions! My second thought: wait a minute, you guys don’t have any kids. You have red, white, and blue popsicles at your house?

I like ice pops as much as the next guy. But I wouldn’t buy them if we didn’t have grandchildren frequenting our home. You’ll find them in our freezer because the little ones visit and stay at our house.

Nutritional value? None. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Water, sugar, and some artifical coloring. A quick burst of energy? Of course. Beyond that. Nothing.

I know, he’s probably thinking, “Dude, aren’t you cold (in shorts and a t-shirt)? Where’s your ice pop? (Costco has them by the case.) Come on, buddy, support your country! USA! USA!

We always say, “Hi,” when he walks by, but he never responds. He doesn’t even look up. His earbuds filter out us and the rest of the world.

It’s all about the popsicle.

Posted in communication, Life

Disconnect to connect

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Luke Chesser on Unsplash

His eyes suddenly shifted away and down. To his wrist. To his smart watch. A second later, he returned to our conversation. A momentary interruption, but a huge break in attention. It didn’t happen just once. He felt the vibration on his wrist and glanced at a message six times in the next ten minutes. Lunch was punctuated by a stream of digital notifications.

As the class leader outlined the discussion for the evening, a phone rang at the next table. The owner dug into his pocket to retrieve his phone. He didn’t answer the call, but his phone rang a few more times. Must have been important.

I cannot remember a Sunday morning worship service that did not include the sound of someone’s cell phone. From the pulpit or the pew, I watch with amusement as the guilty party scrambles to find their phone in purse or pocket to turn it off.

We live in a world where anyone can abscond with our attention. We surrender real relationships to digital imitations. Our devices rule our lives, and the people we care about suffer because of our allegiance to watches and phones.

I only have one suggestion for those who want to wrest their lives from the dominion of non-stop digital communication: Leave your device at home.

Leave your phone in the car. Turn off notifications on your watch. Go to lunch, worship, a meeting, or an amusement park without any connected devices.

What? I know. Everyone is connected. Everyone is one the phone in line for tickets, food, rides, parking, upgrades, and reservations. You have to see it, right? And you have to respond, right?

Well, maybe not. That like, that comment, that response isn’t time sensitive. I’ll bet it’s not urgent. You can (and will) reply tomorrow.

Posted in dogs, Life

The teeny, tiny service dog

Posted on by William Douthwaite

There was no one in line at the paint counter at Home Depot. Sweet! With paint chip in hand, I knew exactly what I needed: two gallons of interior flat.

Just before I described what I needed, a woman held out a white electrical outlet and asked, “Where do I find the paint to paint this?” Caught a bit off the guard, the paint guy pointed and said, “Down that aisle on the right.”

“What kind do I need?” she asked.

The paint guy took a close look and said, “Gloss. Down that aisle.”

“Is it OK to paint this?”

“Sure,” he said.

Her service dog was watching the whole exchange. Her service dog was a five-pound Yorkie, wearing a tiny “Service Dog” vest. I looked down at her. She nervously looked up at me. Neither of us was interested in the situation.

I said, “That is a tiny dog!”

I do not believe English was her first language. She simply smiled at me. I said, “I have a Great Dane.”

Her eyes got big and she said, “I saw one when I was four years old. I remember looking way up at him.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled, “She’s about a hundred pounds heavier than your little one!”

That little dog weighed less than the amount of food I feed my big dog in a day. I now know there’s no minimum weight requirement on being a service dog. That little canine shook so much when I looked at him, I think he needed an emotional support dog of his own!

If he can do the job, more power to him. However, if it were me, I’d want a large dog to be watching out for me. But that’s just me.

Posted in Life

Another dent and another discount

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The oven went belly up last week.

I had used it that morning to bake bread and it worked just fine. Salmon was on the menu for supper. I heat up and baste the salmon in a cast iron pan on the stove top for a few minutes, and then put it in the oven for another five minutes or so to finish cooking it.

This time, when I went to put it in the oven, the temperature hadn’t gone up in the last fifteen minutes. That’s strange. I turned the oven on and off. I turned off the breaker, waited a few minutes, and flipped it back on. No luck.

We need an oven for our cookie business. I texted my wife, “I guess you’re going to get the double oven you’ve wanted.” I got online, found the one we had looked at in the store, and bought it. It would arrive two days later. Nice.

The delivery guys arrived right on time, carted off the old applicance, and slid the new oven into its space in the kitchen. It took my wife all of five seconds to notice, “There’s a dent on the handle.” It was about the size of a dime. I went out and brought the delivery guys back in. They looked, took pictures, and called it in.

After a brief exchange, the voice on the phone said, “We can offer a discount of $350.” It took me all of five seconds to say, “I’ll take it.” It amounted to a 30 percent discount on the price of the oven. I knew I could buy a replacement handle for much less than that.

I was right. A new handle cost about $100 from a repair warehouse. It arrived three days later.

I’m impressed by the customer service. I’m dismayed by how easily a shipment is damaged. Then again, I’m sure it survived a long journey from China. And what’s a few dings or dents, right?

What’s the markup on an appliance? I don’t know. I’m sure everyone made money. And we have a working double oven. Sweet.

Posted in Life

Wow, that’s a big bowl!

Posted on by William Douthwaite

After a long, leisurely breakfast at Metro Diner, I still had time to kill waiting for a brake job at Brakes-For-Less. I slowly wandered back, thinking I would just wait out front in a plastic lawn chair.

Then my eye caught the sign for Diane’s Natural Market. Nice. I know they have a little cafe. I’ll wait there.

As I walked in, I encountered the smell of a health food store. It’s unique, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. A combo of cardamom, cinnamon, and cumin? I don’t know. It’s just unique.

I ordered a coffee at the cafe and noticed some huge mixing bowls in the food prep area. They looked to be about two feet wide and one foot deep. I commented, “Wow. Those mixing bowls are huge!”

A young lady working in the back glanced at me and smiled. “We’re making big batches of tuna salad and chicken salad.”

Of course. You make big batches of food for the day. I’ve never worked in a restaurant kitchen before, so I’m not familar with the workflow.

That’s not entirely true. I worked at Subway a long, long time ago. I spent a lot of time in the back slicing meats and cheese, shredding lettuce, and mixing up tuna and seafood salads for the subs. A lot of the work was about prep and cleaning, so that we could make a boatload of subs.

After I got my coffee, I thought a lot about food service jobs. I think I would have liked being in the restaurant business. And sometimes I think about how different life would have been in that world.