To My Godson, David

Since it's your birthday soon, and I'm in awe that you are an actual Man now, I figured I'd write just a little post, about the little David I knew.

Of course, no David-story would be complete without mentioning the fact that you have always been a lover of music.  I have countless hours of home video depicting you playing a guitar like a Beatle, sitting on the floor at Grandma and Poppie's singing along to movies, and "dancing" in the backyard.

One of my more interesting music-related memories is that you liked (?) Michael Bolton, of all people, and once, when I was standing on a random rock in Disneyworld, you said, "Aunt Cathy, you look like Michael Bolton on a tall mountain rock."  I remember we were trying to interpret what you were saying (your English skills were "interesting" at the age of 4 or however old you were), and I sorted out that you were referring to a music video of your hero.
I think I actually have a picture of that somewhere.
I may have burned it.

Regardless of the fact that I am not Male, and hopefully do not look like Michael Bolton, past or present, it seemed you had an interesting view of the World, which bridged the gaps of sex, color, height, whatever.
I think you even said that Aunt Rosalie looked like Oprah once.  There's also the fact that you and your cousin Rachel were planning to be married some day.  Cute couple, but maybe a little too adventurous into dueling banjo territory.

I have a photo of me holding you as a baby, and I can still remember how you used to snuggle right up into my neck and fall asleep in a matter of seconds.  That cute, drooling, blue-eyed bundle has somehow grown into a cute, drooling, blue-eyed 8 foot tall Man.  (haha)

Of course, there are the other, well-known, famous David moments in my history of memories.

Like when you would call me on the phone and ask how to find the hidden door in whatever level of Final Fantasy you were playing (the first one?? How old am I!?), expecting me to save you from death while I was frantically trying to figure out which part of the game you were in.

Or how you were hypnotically drawn to the church altar during Spenser's Baptism and stood guard with a slight deer in the headlights expression during the entire ceremony.

Or the fact that when you were a little bit older, I think you asked your parents if, when I got married, I would select you as the "pillow boy" (ring-bearer) for the proceedings, even though you were well beyond the age criteria for the part as it was.  And, I wasn't getting married at the time.

I'm actually laughing aloud, recalling these memories, even though we've spoken of them, countless times.  I guess that's what old people do.  Particularly the ones who look like Michael Bolton.  I'm never wearing my hair curly, again.

Anyway, much love to you, my dearest David, on your (almost) birthday, from your Godmother who digs your taste in music, thinks you are beautiful, and hopes that you'll remember her when you are a rich and famous supermodel/music guy/writer/vintner/whatever you want you want to be.  Happy Birthday.

And yes, I will reserve the part of the ring-bearer in my wedding, just for you!

What Summer Tastes Like

So, last night I plucked a gigantic basil leaf from my counter-top plant, which I have been eyeing greedily for some time now.  I have been paying a bit more attention to the plant of late, and the results are pretty interesting.  If you don't already have a basil plant on your windowsill year-round, you should have one.  Just sayin.'

Anyway, thanks to my sister Rosalie (and my mom, but those are gone already), my home has been overflowing with fresh tomatoes.  Now, I am a tomato lover at its extreme.  I love them in any way, shape or form, I could eat them at every meal and still be in love.

As I was enjoying yet another dish of insalata caprese (tomato, fresh mozzarella, fresh basil, olive oil, oh my), I thought to myself, "this is what Summer tastes like."

Now of course, I am also a huge fan of cookouts; burgers on a grill, macaroni salad, maybe even hot dogs, if I'm feeling crazy.  Corn on the cob, while lovely, is impossible to eat gracefully in public, and I probably haven't done that since I was, perhaps, 8 years old.  Same thing goes for watermelon, which I'm not a huge fan of, anyway, so, it's just as well.

But yes, all of these things are what Summer tastes like, too, and, since none of my family have deemed me worthy to be invited to a cookout just yet (hint hint- Summer is winding down, folks!), I mainly have to content myself with eating these things in the privacy of my own home, indoors, which is decidedly not cookout like.  At all.

Anyway, back to the real god of Summer tastes: tomatoes.

When I was younger, and would follow my father incessantly around the garden, he would occasionally let me taste some of the goodies growing therein.  Some things were not that thrilling (like parsley sprigs), but other things....  if you have never picked and eaten a ripe cherry tomato that is sitting there, warmed by the sun, I command you to go do it.  Right now.  Don't wash it (unless you use pesticides, which is icky).  Just pick it and eat it.

Every time I eat a cherry tomato (alas, I have to put them on my windowsill to get the whole "warmed by the sun" feeling), it brings me right back to that garden of my youth.  A time of innocence, Summers free from school, and the secret privilege of getting cherry tomatoes that never made it into the bowl on the counter.

To me, tomatoes are a sweet gift from the gods, and I'm sad to realize that soon enough we'll be entering a new Season, and the tomatoes scrounged from the supermarket will not be as delightfully plump, and red, and local as they are now.

In the meantime, I will be eating them until they're gone (I'm obsessive that they don't go to waste), and will likely start to resemble a tomato soon enough.  I finished the last of my fresh mozzarella and stale Italian bread last night, but you'll be relieved to know that I still have eggs for omelettes, hamburgers, and tuna fish which will nicely compliment the four remaining tomatoes in my arsenal.

So, forget about ice cream and hot dogs.  If you really want to know what Summer tastes like, go pick a tomato.  And don't forget the basil.  I've got extra, if you need it.

Facebook is Life

Every day, when I take a glance at my Facebook Wall, I am (still) flabbergasted at the number of useless, tiresome, and ridiculous pictures and updates that are posted thereupon.  I have several "friends" who post so many pictures and posters that it takes me minutes of scrolling just to get to a more "useful" post, usually concerning the life-changing news that someone has checked in to a local restaurant.

While some people are serial "poster" posters (by "poster" I mean those cute pictures of animals or drawings of women from the 40's with funny captions below), there are others who seem to have fully immersed themselves into the Facebook lifestyle, and I wonder at the silliness of this fact.

These are the people who post every single minute of every thing they are doing,  into Facebook.  They go to a store, they check in.  They eat a hot dog, they take a picture and post it.  They poo in their bathroom, they describe the smell (and maybe even take a picture) in another post.  They sit at their kitchen table, another post.  On and on and $@($&!! on it goes.  A full day of useless cr-p.  And they do this nearly every day.  I cringe to think of what would happen if the person lost their phone (or whatever they're using) or if Facebook was off line for the day.

Now I'm not talking about vacation pictures, or pictures of an unusual food item, such as, live boa constrictor.  Those are fine.  The rest are boring, and no one cares about them.  I'm being serious.  No one cares.  Well, I suppose that's a lie.  I care because I'm annoyed about it, so at least there's that.

I've already somewhat discussed my distaste in the past for Mothers who are overzealous in their proclamations of greatness regarding their children, and here is now an almost full post dedicated to their ilk.
Being a Mother myself, I understand that (pretty much) our life of freedom and carefree rabble rousing is forfeit, once we have a child/children.  I know that there is usually not a lot of excitement to be had, and that most of the stuff we do is kid-related.

But there are occasions when we can be adults.  Adults with unique thoughts, dreams, and sometimes even potential for witty banter.  There are many Mothers out there who seem to have forgotten this fact.  They prove this daily by posting a million kid pictures per week, and telling us mostly useless and uninteresting stories of their child's adventure to the local sandbox.  And the tire swing.  And the mall.  And the bathroom.

Not only do they suffer from the notion that their child is the Greatest Kid on Earth, but they somehow think that we will believe it, too.  Because we saw the picture of him blowing a bubble.  And not even a big bubble or a cool bubble shaped like an elephant.

I'm sorry, folks, but there has got to be more to Life than this.  I know that Facebook is a "social networking" platform,  that this is allegedly how people are "social," and if it really annoys me so much, I should just quit it altogether.  Perhaps some day soon, I will.

After I've mastered level 23 of flax-growing and have won the "Farm of the Year" contest.

(And yes, Facebook games and the people who play them are evil.  I'm pretty sure of it.)

There is Life out there beyond Facebook, folks, go and enjoy some of it.  And I challenge you to keep at least some of it, all to yourself.

Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me, HEY, Look at Me!

So, I recently decided that I should update my photo on my Facebook profile.  The old one was nearly a year old, somewhat blurry, and frankly, I had a pretty crappy year following the taking of that photo; I considered that perhaps the picture was bad luck, and that maybe a new picture would bring new and happy things to the life of Catherine.

Now, here's the thing:  it really concerns me when people post a million pictures of themselves on Facebook. I'm not talking about pictures of them with their spouses, kids, friends, Mickey Mouse; I'm talking about just full on close up (or otherwise) photos of themselves.
A lot of them.
Daily.

I find that young ladies are the main culprit in this, and every time I see these updated photos and profiles, I can't help but roll my eyes.  In one of my first forays into the world of Facebook, I was looking over my son's shoulder at the photo album of a female friend.  I said, "well, she must really like herself."

Now, in my younger days, I was never one to really shy away from a camera.  I never quite understood why people did not like to have their pictures taken.  Back in those days, one would take photos at special occasions, bring the roll of film (or a disc, if you were cool) to the local drugstore, and wait for three days to see the documentation of said occasion.  The photographer was almost never in his or her own pictures.  Imagine how bizarre it would have been to have an entire roll of film developed into pictures of only one, singular, face.  Not just any face, but the face of the photographer. Yet it seems to be a highly fashionable thing to do these days, rolls of film or not.

I often wonder about this apparent self-love prevalent in Facebook profiles.  Yes, it is good to have self-confidence, and yes, it is important to love yourself- but to have multiple albums - updated daily- of your shining and adorable face- by itself- seems a little strange to me.

I'm not even going to give the benefit of the doubt here by allowing that perhaps the person was taking multiple test shots to find the "good" one, or is sharing a picture of some updated feature (like a hairdo, pair of clogs, or nose piercing), because there will be multiple photos taken within seconds of each other, all with the same hairdo and outfit.

Here's me raising my eyebrows.  Here's me pouting.  Here's me crossing my eyes.  Here's me smiling seductively.  Here's me smiling seductively at a different angle.  Here's me smiling seductively at another different angle, this time with my cat.  Me, me, me, me, me, aren't I fantastic?  Oh, and here's me looking fantastic.  With a seductive smile. Yay, me!

Enough already, I say.

So, back to the whole photo update.  Since I am completely averse to and bemoaning of people who update their photos every three seconds, I was extremely concerned that I might somehow be lumped into that category, even though I haven't updated my picture in a year.

I checked the "only me" box as I was trying to upload and figure out the whole cropping process, made sure I didn't hit my own "share" or "like" or whatever other buttons are there, and went to every setting available, trying to sort out how to just change my cover photo, quietly.

As I was trying to figure out how to change my cover photo (Is it edit?  Do I delete the old one first?  Why can't I click and drag?  Why did it make a new album?), I noticed that the little globe at the top of my page had the number "2" emblazoned upon it (I won't add here that I only just figured out what that was, within the  past month or two).

"So and so 'Liked' your picture."
"So and so commented on your picture."

Wait, what?  How did they see my picture?  I'm not even done figuring out where it goes, and somehow, people have seen it.  I frantically started clicking and went to my own Timeline page, and there is a gigantic version of my new photo posted there.  I immediately deleted it (even though supposedly it is "only me" who can see most of my timeline) in TWO SPOTS and went back to the photo albums, trying desperately to stop this worldwide publication of my photo update.

Well, I never figured it out.  I was absolutely mortified that somehow, people were getting gargantuan photos of me posted on their Walls indicating that I had updated my profile, or whatever I was allegedly doing.  HEY EVERYONE, HERE'S A PICTURE OF ME!  LOOK AT ME!

Good Lord.

So, to anyone who received some nefarious posting in your Facebook, alerting you to the fact that I changed my photo, I apologize.  Thank you for your lovely comments.  Thank you for liking me.  Please know, though, that you will not likely see an updated photo of myself for at least another 40 years.  In the meantime, I don't want to see another picture of your face.  You're great and all, but, just. Stop.

Facebook Would Be a Bad Dinner Companion

So, I was recently chatting with my brother in law (yes, this one's for you, Dave) about the evils of Facebook, and I mentioned that most people in Facebook have forsaken the golden rule of never discussing politics or religion in mixed company.  Of course, this rule generally applies to the dinner table, and yes, I know, our computers are not (supposed to be) our dinner tables, but there is some merit to this rule.

I never quite understood it when I was younger, but I certainly understood it as I grew older.  I do not necessarily consider myself overly passionate regarding any side of any fence in regard to religion nor politics.  I lean to the left on certain topics, and to the right on others.  They are personal beliefs, all of which make up part of who I am.  While I strongly disagree with the beliefs of some people, and I will always defend my own, I still like to think that I can reasonably agree to disagree if necessary, and leave it at that.

If you could view my Facebook Wall, you would see that it is chock full of anti-Obama and pro-Obama sentiment.  It is pro-military, pro-gay, anti-Democrat, anti-Republican, anti-Conservatism, pro-gun control, anti-gun control, anti-Men, pro-bada$$ attitudes, pro-hidden Jesus pictures, you name it.  I have a decidedly eclectic group of Friends and Family, with some very opposing opinions on display.

Now, the thing is, I pretty much know where most of my Facebook acquaintances stand in regard to the "big" issues.  I don't know if they know where I stand.  And I'm guessing they really don't care much where I stand, because they are too busy posting their opinions for The World of Facebook to see.  Of course, it's not anyone's business to know for whom I voted in past Presidential Elections; but I admit that if I see a poster (unwittingly) (or not) calling me a stupid a$$ anti-American for supporting said person, I am going to take offense.  It's fine if you dislike my choices, but name-calling is a little beneath us all, is it not?

I actually respect opposing views, and I think that reasonable debate and the freedom to speak on such topics are Rights that should be strongly defended.  However, I think that much of this can be done with a bit more class, and with respect for the fact that the people who oppose us have the same. Exact. Rights.

When people post strong worded pro- or anti- anything, I suspect that they're not taking into account the fact that their audience may have very different personal beliefs.  Personal beliefs which have just been denigrated and belittled in the pursuit of freedom of speech and expression of other personal beliefs.

I appreciate the fact that people have strong feelings on certain topics, but I feel that often, in an attempt to brandish their "righteous" opinions like a sword of justice, they are acting in an eerily similar manner to their alleged oppressors.  People who are often on the side of celebrating "differences" (I'm one of them, so don't even start) are usually only supporting the differences that they agree with.  If people expect others to be open-minded and allow for our beautiful and unique beliefs as citizens to be accepted, it should follow that the "others" (the opposing side) are included in that world of citizens.

So, my fellow Facebook friends, think twice before you post that political or religious themed poster on your Wall.  If you really liked me, and really knew me, you wouldn't call me (to my face) a stupid-a$$ anti-American or a closed-minded bigot or suggest that I should burn in Hell or die of a disfiguring disease because I prefer A to B.  Would you?  Do you even know what I believe in?

I'm not talking here about minority versus majority, who is in power, and some of the unfair and outdated laws and rules that we have in this country.  That's for some other time.  I'm simply talking about realizing the possibly unintended effects of what you post in Facebook.  And also the strong potential for you to be the recipient of a cold shoulder or two at your next dinner party.

Think, people.

On Re-Reading Your Books

I'm sure you've heard me mention by now that I happen to be a voracious reader, and of my new adventures in the world of free books for Kindle.  Before my Kindle came along, if I couldn't afford a pricey $7 paperback from WalMart, I would generally re-read one of the thousands of books on my bookshelf.

I have finally gotten rid of many of my books which are not re-read worthy, but there are some which have gained permanent spots on the shelf, of which I will never tire, regardless of the number of times I re-read them.

The Dark Tower Series (pure genius right thar), and really, anything by Stephen King (except for Lisey's Story, which I could not stand), will never earn a spot in my bag of "I've got to donate these somewhere" books.  I've re-read the series multiple times, and, since it's so long, I could probably even start it over again after having read the "last" book in the jumble, and still be mesmerized.

All "Reacher" novels by Lee Child have been read at least twice.  Same with probably 90% of my Dean Koontz, though admittedly some of them are so "similarly" themed that I get annoyed when I'm on my third go-through and realize I just read it a few weeks prior (and on a side note, they're not really similarly themed, but there are a few which I didn't overly like, and I tend to confuse them).  Also my James Follet books (Pillars of the Earth and World Without End), not only because they're good, but also because they're a million pages each, and who could throw something like that away?  Anything James Patterson, mainly because he's talented but also he's one of the only persons who posts on my Facebook wall and doesn't annoy the poo out of me.  Also, "Sarum" by Edward Rutherfurd.

Having said all that, I'm on my second go-round of the whole "Game of Thrones" saga.  I don't think I've complained about this before, but I will say a few things about this here.

First of all, I had a really difficult time getting past the whole "R.R" in the author's name; I knew nothing about him (nor of the fact that there was an HBO series), but I was annoyed at the signal in my brain which suggested that this person was openly comparing himself to the other "R.R." author, Tolkien.  I'm sure he wasn't, and I'm sure they are legitimate initials, but, I'm stubborn, so, yeah.

Second, while I was mostly intrigued by the entire series, I did find myself just skimming through certain parts.  Okay, many parts.  Some of it was due to the fact I was ticked that I would have to wait another 5-6 chapters to read about the characters with which I was fascinated.  If it hadn't been for the story line (which is good), and the few characters I was interested in, I likely would not have finished the series because of my annoyance.

On a similar note, I realized in one of the books (maybe the fourth or fifth?) that I hadn't heard at all regarding some of the characters since the previous book.  I actually went back in my reading to make sure that the character hadn't died and perhaps I had missed it somewhere.

And finally, the hugest annoyance for me was getting the last book, and realizing that the series was not actually complete.  I remember getting about half way through the final book and realizing that there were not nearly enough pages to wrap up the multitude of story lines.  You know, you get to the "final" book of a series, and when it's not "final", it's very annoying.  Perhaps if I had done a little research beforehand, I would have known, but I'm also guessing that I might have not even bothered, seeing a five-box set and knowing I wasn't going to get to the real finale.

Anyway, I've just started re-reading, and I'm having a hard time with it.  Why?  Because I know the heartbreaks that are forthcoming, and I've had enough of heartbreak for this year.  Knowing how a story ends has never prevented me from a re-read, but in this case, there are still infinity plus nine number of books to read after the "final" book of the series (I actually don't know, I'm afraid to investigate), and I'm still quite upset over the demise of some of the characters (don't worry, I won't spoil it for you).

This is an entirely new feeling for me, but I will persist.  Why?  Because I know that I will likely want to see the HBO series, and I need to have everything refreshed in my memory - so I can come here to complain about the fact that the television series is nothing compared to the books.
Which I skimmed through.

  Page 123 of book one, 84926296412 pages to go......

Fodder

So, I was feeling a little bored, and simultaneously looking for some "inspiration" for my next post, and decided to force myself to watch some on line shows which I knew would get my blood boiling, or at least pumping at a faster rate.

Now, I admit that I have been sucked in to some reality type shows, much to my embarrassment and chagrin.  I have questioned myself as to the basis of my "fascination" with some of these shows (mainly "Real" Housewives types of shows), because often I spend the entire time complaining to myself (and sometimes aloud, to my cat) about how awful these women look and behave.

One show I have never watched past a first full episode is that of the "Bachelor" series.  I think the Bachelor was first, then the Bachelorette?  I don't know, and I'm sure I do not care.  I remember the first time watching the show, and being mortified about most of the details, from the whole cheesy rose ceremony thing (uggghh) and the fact that women were crying about being in love with some dude who was basically in a harem situation, who they had known for perhaps one or two days.

The last series of which I was aware involved a single Mother, and I have heard snippets here and there of other single Mothers on these shows, and I am pretty much disgusted about the whole thing.  I have some pretty strict ideas of what a Mother should be, particularly if she is unmarried, and none of them include her being hot, rich, or making out with various Men on television.  But that's for another time.

This particular show ("The Bachelor Pad") involves Men and Women from previous seasons of the other two shows I mentioned, along with some "Fans" thrown into the mix.  I had no idea of who these people were, I was actually assuming the show was an unrelated thing involving a bunch of handsome a$$hole guys hanging out in a huge house and doing who knows what.  Which I guess, is somewhat accurate, just add in some "attractive" a$$hole gals.

First of all, the amount of makeup these women wear is staggering.  Now don't get me wrong, I love makeup, it can be fun, and it, at the very least, can give you the appearance of not being ill.  However.  False eyelashes worn during an athletic challenge (or swimming/hot-tubbing) just seems a little ridiculous to me.  Their penciled eyebrows, day-glo teeth, tons of blush and eyeshadow are just.... what the heck?  The one young "lady" who is considered "the girl next door" (I guess, if you live near a brothel....) is shown riding a horse with a lacy type of shirt, and full makeup.  I don't know, I thought "girl next door" meant braids, freckles, and natural beauty.  Granted, this girl is quite attractive, and looks to have mostly natural body parts, but, come on.

Two of the women (both blondes....grrrrrr), who I suppose must be considered attractive (???) are just. Not.  One (and yes, I'm getting the claws out, and I don't care) has a very strange mouth, and I'm presuming it is because she has had lip injections or something of that ilk.  Only the bottom part of her mouth moves when she speaks, and it's always in this frowning sort of way, where the ends never curl up.  It doesn't even look like a snooty, aristocratic thing, it looks almost school-marmish.  Way to go, pretty girl.  She is also under some impression that she is above the "Fans" who have joined the show, that she "deserves" to be there more than they.  Okay.

The other woman has the longest, thinnest nose I have ever seen, perhaps even rivaling Michael Jackson.  I know that I've written posts regarding finding the hidden beauty in all of us,  and that there is something beautiful about every person on this Earth, even if you have to struggle to see it.  I am sure there is something beautiful on this "lady", but the fact that she is so un-pretty in her words and actions, and the fact that she is imagined to be pretty, find me hard-pressed to follow my own admonitions.  I just don't get it, folks.

I understand that these Men and Women do not represent the entire World.  I understand that people want to look at "attractive" humans, and that the drama factor is important.  The girl next door (the original one) is far too boring, and likely doesn't do cartwheels in a dress with her hoohaa hanging out.  No, this isn't the World, but a large number of us watch these shows.

The Men, while mostly being jerks, are at least "natural."  If they are wearing makeup, it's very subtle (and would likely be a little odd if it were applied heavy handedly).  Yes, they all have attractive physiques and attractive features.  It's a result of good genes, and working out at the gym.  It's likely not a result of obvious surgeries and layers of makeup.

I remember Dr. Laura Schlessinger (don't hate) once talking about how, in Nature, it was usually the male of the species who did the attracting.  They had prettier gear (brighter plumage and such), they fought other males, they did special dances in order to get the girl.  It seems that females have taken the mating ritual to newer and false-r heights, and it's actually rather sad that their perceived attractiveness is not about genes, but about alterations and coverups.  They're not going to pass on their big boobs and lips to their offspring.  They will pass on their hawk-hooked noses and flat chests, however.  Of course, this show has nothing to do with producing offspring, I know.  It's about sex, not the perpetuation of the species.

Anyway, I've gone on long enough for today.  I have a ton more to say on related topics, so stay tuned for that.  This one show is fodder for at least ten other posts.  I'm off to clean the barn in my false eyelashes and wedge shoes.  Ciao!

Hope For Humanity

I haven't done my post regarding the whole end of the world with a side of zombie apocalypse yet, but when I do, I'm sure you recognize that it will be mainly about humanity and whether it can withstand the pressures of chaos, starvation, and of course, zombie friends and neighbors.

I was recently listening to a George Carlin spiel and he mentioned something regarding people who think that people are "good," but that it takes a horrible disaster to ever see demonstration of the fact.  I'm sorry to say that I partially agree with that, but, being in a strangely optimistic mood for at least the duration of this post, I'm going to talk about people who are good (there are at least three of you out there, I know it), even while not in the midst of calamity.  Or at least, not zombie apocalypse level of calamity.

The other day I had the great fortune of being in a waiting room for local court proceedings.  It was extremely warm, crowded, and people were generally pi$$ed off.  Traffic violators and various "criminals" all crammed into one small area, with a rather long wait.  A young non-white gentleman came in with an infant carrier (avec infant), and a diaper bag which was thoroughly checked by the policeman (upon which he was advised that "bottles" are not allowed in the courtroom).  When he approached the small waiting area, two, count 'em, TWO men offered their seats for this young man and his infant.  I was completely shocked, and extremely pleased at seeing this.

Here, in the midst of all sorts of baddies (I don't really believe this, of course), there was kindness.  You would think that, in this atmosphere of 128 degree heat with sauna-like conditions, amongst the evil criminals of society, that there would be no sympathy for some not-originally-from-America dude with a baby.  But there was.  I wanted to say, "well that was nice," but settled for smiling at the do-gooders instead.

Two points gained for Humanity!

When I was at the race track over the weekend, there was a lot of not-nice-ness going around.  The lines at the betting booths were not very organized (translation: some people were dumb enough to actually stand in line, like myself, whilst others would just hover in clumps and jump to any open window), and some of the staff were a little less than pleasant (like, when someone butt in front of me, I waited my turn, got to the window and the woman behind the counter was b-tching to her co-workers and then turned to me and said, "I'M CLOSED!").  However, I attempted to follow some sort of civil procedure by standing in line and being patient.

Later that same day, while I was still observing queue etiquette, a nearby hover-er noticed an available window; he went to run over, but then turned to me and said, "you go ahead, you were waiting first."  It's sad that I'm even shocked at such an offer, but, there it is.  I  told him to go ahead, since I was next anyway, and of course was there for another five minutes while 23 other customers were served at the next window, but it was still nice to have one offer of kindness.

So, since it's very easy for me to write about the things which annoy the crap out of me, I thought it only right that I dedicated one post to the three good people I encountered during the past week.  I know that I tend to be a little snarky about most things, and that I should don my rose-colored glasses on more occasions, but alas, I am what I am.  And this blog would be very boring if I wrote about butterflies and cupcakes.  In my opinion at least.

Anyway, to those three gentlemen, I salute you and pay you great homage. And I hope you all win the lottery.  Hopefully your actions will rub off on your fellow humans.   Then perhaps I can do a counter-theme to my "Decline of Humanity" posts.  Hope?