Hang on

Our Frontier Airlines plane taxied for takeoff at the old Stapleton airport in Denver.

"Captain Joanne Lewis is our pilot for this flight," the flight attendant announced. "In fact, we have an all-female crew, the first ever for Frontier... Please fasten your seatbelts."

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I guess the story is dated. At the time, it was an amusing juxtaposition for a historical happening. I told the above to a thirty-year-old career woman recently. No response. I sensed she sensed I was a sexist. Oh, well.

Pile it on

The moment my daughter Rebecca walked into Target, her three week-old son started to shriek, followed by her 19 month-old daughter. She had ventured out alone for the first time with two children.

The kids continued to act out with no concern for their stressed out mom. Looking over the top of  her glasses, a woman looked around the aisle corner and clucked, "Oh...I was worried that the children were abandoned." Rebecca spent a total of eight minutes in Target before she fled.

On her way home she listened to a radio talk-show caller radio, who, believe it or not, said she worked at Target. When asked what things bugged her at work; the caller carped, "Those mothers with out-of-control children."

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Yesterday, as I sat in the YMCA foyer, a woman with kids about the ages of Rebecca came in and sat down near me. I told her and a couple of other women the story about Rebecca at Target. Everyone could relate and were amused. Then a woman told the following:

A woman stood at the checkout counter with her daughter in the cart and a line of people behind her. Her daughter started a terrible tantrum with a loud scream.

Her mother spoke, "Relax, Maria... Everything is going to be okay... Take a deep breath... Let it go, Maria..."

The woman behind her said, "I can't believe how calm you are with your daughter Maria."

The mother explained, "That's Emily; I'm Maria."

Pouty Girl

This morning I helped out at the finish of a large Thankgiving day road race. While we were waiting for the first runners to cross the finish line, there was a girl in the finish chute next to me who was doing the same job as I. She was disagreeing with her mother and pouting. Apparently, her mother recruited her to help with the finish line.

After her mother left, I talked to her--asking where she went to school--thinking she was about fifteen. She told me that she was a freshman at the local college.

I bet she lives at home. Time to get away from mom.

Now That's Commitment

Sheryl Crow, singer and save the earth activist, suggested a few months back that people should not use more than one sheet of toilet paper per session. There might an occasional emergency when one would be allowed to use two or three sheets.

I noticed that a nine pack of Quilted Northern double roles has 392 square feet of tissue. That should be enough to last Sheryl for two years -- including those three tissue moments.

Don't you just love glitterati who lecture us on how to save the earth, but live in multi-million dollar glass houses and private jet around the world. Sheryl Crow's suggestion shows that she is more than just talk; she is walking the walk. Four squares a day--now that's real commitment. It will be a struggle for our family, but we are moved.

I am impressed by those who have real commitment to making this a better earth.

A few engineer friends have build ultra energy efficient houses and are totally self sufficient with no utilities of water, gas, or electricity. They built their houses in a hillside or from used old tires and aluminum cans. They live year round at 59 degrees with the carbon footprint of a mouse. Now that's commitment.

When an engineer started working in the same R&D lab as I, he talked about the downsides of consumerism. When he was offered a raise, he refused on basic principles. More raises came over the years -- he refused them all. Now that's commitment.

There was a professor who taught conservation at a nearby university. He recycled and composted much of his stuff. At the end of each year he took one sack of trash to the dump on his bicycle. Now that's commitment.

Calls for conservation from the jet setters are a bit hollow if they are not willing to sacrifice--like Sheryl Crow and her four squares.

Last week, I heard that Sheryl told a reporter that she actually had been joking about the toilet paper. What a perfidy!

Say it ain't so, Miss Crow.

Farewell to Lightbulb

This morning, carrying my coffee cup and newspaper, I went out on our back deck. I was earlier than usual, as I was concerned if I would see Lightbulb the fawn. I have enjoyed the past two months -- from the day she was taking her first wobbly steps -- to now when she has just about lost her spots. My granddaughter Libby selected Lightbulb's name, along with the names for the twin fawns -- Roller and Coaster.

I have a love-hate relationship with the deer. We have stopped growing flowers--we tired of encasing them in netting. The bucks rub their old horns against tree trunks in the winter ripping off the bark and killing the trees. This winter was the worst for damage from foraging--they stripped most of the evergreens clean.

On the other hand, whether drinking coffee early in the morning or entertaining guests: having Lightbulb, Roller and Coaster bouncy-bounce-by is a showstopper.

Lightbulb's mother has been very protective. One day I saw her hiss loudly at a buck and chase him away. Then there was the time she chased the bobcat out of the backyard.

Nursing by Lightbulb has been a bit rough, with Lightbulb continually punching mom's udder with her nose. When mom has had enough, she swings her leg up over Lightbulb's head and feeding time is over. When Lightbulb has been separated from her mother, she has mewed like a cat.

I had the feeling this morning that Lightbulb was not going to walk by again. Last night at dusk she came by with her mother -- her rear leg broken and dangling.

I was very upset about Lightbulb's plight. Me! The one who is always cussing the deer.

Now how do I answer the inevitable question from my granddaughter about where Lightbulb has gone?

With the truth I guess -- our backyard is not a zoo, it's a jungle.

Bye Bye, Lightbulb.

 

The Jungle

Four o'clock in the morning. I am awakened by a series of spine-tingling howls and growls through the open windows on the front and back side of our house.

I spring to the window but see nothing in the darkness.

Coyotes. Who are they executing this time: The neighbor's cat? A fox? A racoon? Hopefully it's one of those damn rabbits.

Silence. Adrenaline rush.

Sleep is now out of the picture.

 

 

Motherhood

As I walked out onto our deck, a startled bobcat walked out from under it. It looked like a small tiger with its magnificent striping.

"Lois, there's a bobcat out here," I yelled quietly  to my wife.

The bobcat walked slowly to about fifteen feet from the house and gazed back.

Then, from the side of the house charged a doe mule deer. The bobcat was reluctant to move, but the doe was persistent and chased it away.

Maybe the doe was just protecting "Lightbulb" -- the fawn my granddaughter Libby named.

Start Your Engine

Yesterday, I parked in the University of Colorado parking lot at noon. A guy got into the SUV next to me. He put a tube connected to the dash into his mouth and blew into it. He waited about fifteen seconds, started his car and drove off.

A breathalizer. My first sighting.

Math Overload

After a middle aged woman with Wanda on her nametag took my order at Quizno's today, I moved down the line to pay for my sub. I quizzed two teenagers standing behind the register, "How  ya doin."

"Boooooring," moaned the girl with Celeste on her nametag.

"Slow day?"

"Yep," as she rung up the sale; $8.69 appeared on the register screen.

I gave her a gift card worth five dollars.

When she credited the five dollars, the $8.69 morphed into $3.69.

I gave her a ten dollar bill for the remainder.

A long pause; a perplexed look. "The machine has a problem," Celeste confessed.

She yelled to Wanda, "It won't figure out the change."

Wanda couldn't fix the register problem. She then showed Celeste where the hand held calculator was kept.

It took a few tries on the calculator, but Celeste finally solved the ten take away three sixty-nine problem.