Category: Life

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.

Posted in Life, trash

Trash talk

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The wide variety of trash and recycling out on the curb this morning impressed the big dog and me on our walk. We saw massive piles of trash in front of some homes and just a small bag in front of others.

A family a few houses up the street only ever puts out a recycling bin. They rarely put out a container of trash. How do they do that? They are a family of four, and they hardly throw out anything.

On the other hand, the folks a few houses in the other direction put out multiple overflowing trashcans, along with a stack of trash bags, a pile of boxes, and an overflowing recycling bin. Not just once a week, but two times a week! For a two-person household.

On any given trash collection day, I will see at least three mattresses, two vacuum cleaners, either a dishwasher or a refrigerator, lots and lots of pizza boxes, and a recliner.

I love to see how some organize their recycling bin, with all the cardboard folded to one side and cans and bottles lined up on the other. Picture perfect. I break down all my boxes to get as many in as possible. Most people just pile up all the Amazon boxes any which way.

Some (like me) have all the trash tied up in bags in a lidded container. Others just throw whatever in the can and drag it out Tuesday morning.

So much trash. For all our efforts at recycling, I believe we only have more to throw away. I don’t even know where they put it all.

I’ll add to the pile this Friday. A new range arrives on Thursday, so the recently deceased old one will be on the curb Thursday night. Maybe someone will come by and take it for repair or scrap. Maybe not.

Posted in Life

A snail’s pace

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I didn’t see him. The dog did. He’s barely moving. A “snail’s pace” at best. Lol.

I’ve seen snail trails on the street. They wind across the asphalt, leaving slime behind them. If you’re a snail, everyone knows where you’ve been. You can’t lie about where you’ve been. They are slimy and slow, and leave conspicuous tracks.

But the shell is beautiful. I sometimes want life to slow down a bit. Take my time. Enjoy the journey.

Like a snail.

Posted in Life

For better or worse: yard celebrations

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Yard art has become a big business. You hire them, an awesome display shows up in your yard over night, your child or significant other is completely surprised, and it disappears a few days later.

Unless. Unless a storm blows through. And then your wonderful surprise ends up looking like the picture on the right. The flamingo party lasted five days. The grad party fell pray to an evening storm the same night. That’s the way it goes.

When my grandson celebrated his tenth birthday, a crop of cutouts appeared in his front yard overnight. I don’t know when they cruised through the neighborhood to set it up, but he was thrilled to see it all the next morning!

I guess that’s the risk you take with this kind of business. Who knows what the weather will be like? Who knows when a storm will blow through. The neighborhood is filled with scholarship announcements too.

One way or the other, everyone will know about your special occasion!

Posted in Life

A pre-dawn delivery

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It’s dark. Really dark. The big dog and I were out for a super-early morning walk. About half-a-mile in, a car zips by with it’s flashers on and stops in front of a house. The driver hops out, leaves a package by the front door, and zips away into the night.

It’s an Amazon delivery. Rather than the familiar Amazon van, it was a guy with a package delivery side-hustle.

It’s only been a week since I learned that some shipments arrive in the early morning hours. A delivery notification arrived in my email at about 6 am. What? Orders usually arrive in the late afternoon. This was at the front door before sunrise.

We don’t live in a big enough city to have same-day delivery, but this is close. An afternoon order of a book, pair of shorts, dog toy, art supplies, journal, cosmetics, snack food, or tool may arrive before you wake up the next morning.

Isn’t that amazing? And it’s all because they know what I’m going to purchase before I do. They have so much data on me, they know me better than I know myself. My zip code, my purchase history, my search history, and my demographic announce what I’m most likely to buy. Those items are shipped to the closest warehouse. As soon as I click “purchase,” the item is already on it’s way to boxing, sealing, and distribution.

Is this a good thing? I like it. I don’t have to go anywhere. Everything I buy is brought to my house. Thank you very much!

But I’m spoiled. I expect everything in a day. Two at the most. A week? You’ve got to be kidding.

I go to the store. You don’t have what I need? Really? What kind of store are you? You don’t have my size? My color? Come on. And why is the checkout line moving so slowly? Where’s my food? Did they lose my order? I was never this impatient before. I’m beyond impatient now. I’m irritated.

I want to blame AI. It knows me. It knows when and where I’ll send my money. But really, it’s my fault. I’m in control here. I can control my purchases, attitude, consumption, appetite, spending, and browsing.

At least I think I can. Some things I need to buy. Some things are gifts. Somethings are things I want to buy.

It’s a whole new world. A pre-dawn, rapid-delivery, instant-gratification world. Sign me up!

Posted in Life

It’s popsicle season

Posted on by William Douthwaite

They’re cheap. They’re shorter than they used to be. They’re nothing more than flavored sugar water. They’re delicious. They go by Fla-vor-ice, Otter pops, Pop-ice, and freeze pops. We have a nice supply in our freezer. And they have been there my whole life.

The flavors include: lime, sour apple, banana, pineapple, strawberry, cherry, blue raspberry, grape, lemon, orange, watermelon. My favorites: lime and pineapple.

These stick popsicles were the snack for two of my granddaughters today. I let them pick from the assortment in our freezer. They froze and then settled on the predictable purple and pink pops.

Sixty years ago, these were our go to snacks. they were about three inches longer. We had fewer flavor choices (grape, red, lime, banana, and blue). But the recipe was the same: sugar, water, and some kind of artificial sweetener.

So the real question is: do you eat the frozen pop or let it melt to juice in the sleeve?

I prefer the frozen treat. But the juice is also delicious. When all the ice is gone, those last few sips of juice are so good. But would they have been as good without the melt?

I’ll admit, I’m more of an “eat the frozen” guy rather than a “drink the juice” person. My pops are gone before there’s much juice left. (I chose the green sour apple popsicle today.) Some let theirs melt into a whole tube of juice. Good for you. I’m not so patient. Mine is gone before there’s much juice in the bottom of the tube.

Who thought of this frozen treat? Who was the inventor? Who made a boatload of money off of this idea? I think it goes back a hundred years. But what a great idea!