A Nice Cup of Tea & a Sit Down

My Dear Husband,

I am sending you this letter via this E-mail thing, so that you will be sure to read it. Please forgive the deception, but I thought you should know what has been going on at home since your computer entered our lives TWO YEARS AGO. The children are doing well. Jimmy is seven now and is a bright, handsome boy. He has developed quite an interest in the arts. He drew a family portrait for a school project, all the figures were good and the back of your head is very realistic. You should be very proud of him.

Little Suzy turned three in September. She looks a lot like you did at that age. She is an attractive child and quite smart. She still remembers that you spent the whole afternoon with us on her birthday. What a grand day for Suzy, despite the fact that it was stormy and the electricity was out.

I am doing well. I went blonde about a year ago and discovered that it really is more fun! Fred, I mean, Mr. Johnson the department head, has, uh, taken an interest in my career and has become a good friend to us all.

I discovered that the household chores are much easier since I realized that you didn't mind being vacuumed but that feather dusting made you sneeze. The house is in good shape. I had the living room painted last spring. I'm sure you noticed it. I made sure that the painters cut holes in the drop sheet so you wouldn't be disturbed.

Well, my dear, I must be going. Uncle Fred, uh, Mr. Johnson, I mean, is taking us all on a ski trip and there is packing to do. I have hired a housekeeper to take care of things while we are away, she'll keep things in order, fill your coffee cup and bring your meals to your desk, just the way you like it. I hope you and the computer will have a lovely time while we are gone. Jimmy, Suzy and I will think of you often. Try to remember us while your little disks are booting.

Love,
Your Wife

Today, American car makers Ford and General Motors announced that they have both incurred a drop in sales by around about 8%.   Toyota, the new number three car maker in the U.S., reported and increase in sales of almost 13%.   Ford and General Motors blame rising fuel costs and a poor housing market as the cause of their woes.   Toyota, operating in the same market, see sales rising however.   Everyone is asking: "How can this be?"

In order to redress the balance,  Ford is going to shed 38,000 jobs.   General Motors plans to cut 30,000 jobs; close several factories and sell off the majority stake it has in its successful GMAC financial arm.   Toyota meanwhile, plans to open six more factories within the next three years.   Why are the fortunes of these three car makers so very different?

The answer is that Ford and General Motors just don't get it.   They continue to churn out huge vehicles that cost almost as much as a house, and which nobody can afford to drive.   Filling up the average truck or other 4X4 costs around $100 these days.    Before George Bush came to power, filling up a truck or 4X4 cost on average $40.   Wages in the U.S. haven't risen in proportion to gas prices and there are people today, who unashamedly admit that they use money for mortgage and bills to subsidize their fuel costs; ultimately leading them into a downward spiral of debt.

Other car makers such as Toyota realized that change was in the air a long time ago, and set about producing more fuel efficient cars and, cars of a type which would appeal to the American market.   Ford and General Motors didn't do this, instead the continued to produce even more trucks and SUV's.   Today, we have a situation where Toyota and other foreign car makers have vehicles on the market that are smaller; lighter; more fun to drive; and, more fuel efficient.   These cars command a healthy price and the American public are prepared to pay for them.   Meanwhile, go into a Ford showroom and say that you don't want a truck or an SUV, and they pretty much point you in the direction of the ultimately boring Focus.   This model was fine when it was first introduced, but these days, it just looks like an old people's car.   Bizarrely, old people shun this model too.   Older people in the baby boomer generation are more likely to be found driving a PT Cruiser.   They may be old, but there is still that 60's young at heart in them; and so PT Cruisers, Matrix's, Vibes, etc., all find themselves with silver haired owners.   Such cars may have been initially designed for the youth market, but the car makers failed to put a youth market price on the vehicle, and so perversely, their perceived target audience cannot afford to buy the car specifically designed for them. 

Ford and GM, listen to me; it is time to stop making vehicles that nobody wants to buy.   It is time to pension off models that were popular 10-15 years ago.   Look at what people are clammering to buy these days.   People are looking to buy cars that are fun to drive; cars that are fuel efficient; cars that can carry a good bit of cargo; and, cars that embrace technology.   People want On-Star.   People want satellite radio built-in.   People want heated cup holders.   People want a chilled compartment.   People want GPS systems.   People want people want 115v built-in.   People want more than one 12v accessory plug (cigar lighter).   If the design of the car is such that they cannot see out of the back window to reverse safely, they want a rear view camera incorporated into the design.  People want child safety seats to be easy to fit.   People want a finish that does not scratch the very first time you drive through a car wash.   

Instead, you are offering me vehicles that do 12mpg and which can easily carry enough bricks to build half a house.   Yet all I want to do, is go to the post office and post a letter.    I don't need a huge monster truck to do that; neither do the majority of people.   We are tired of boring and expensive.   Give us vehicles that make sense to the average person.   If you do that, perhaps you wouldn't have to be cutting 38,000 jobs; perhaps you'd be in Toyota's position of creating new jobs.

Today, many people will be starting the New Year nursing very sore heads.   There will be those who do not have sore heads and who will be gloating at the suffering of those who do.   Meanwhile, there will be others who will be regretting the fact that last night they announced to the world that they would be giving up something that they enjoy considerably, as a New Year's resolution.   It also follows that there will be those waiting for these people to fail, and who will take extreme delight at reminding these people for the rest of the year of their failings.

As each year passes, it occurs to me that the people of the world in general, seem to get more mean spirited, spiteful, and vindictive than they ever have before.   The year 2006 finally bowed out on the lowest of notes.   On perhaps the most sacred of religious festivals in the Muslim calendar, Eid; ousted President Hussein of Iraq, was hanged.  

I am old enough to remember a time when capital punishment was practiced in the United Kingdom.   In those days, hanging was a very private affair.   Apart from the condemned person, the only people present at an execution were the prison governor; a handful of warders; a clergyman; a physician; and, the hangman.   Afterwards, a note was pinned to the prison door, stating that the named person had been executed according to law, at whatever time the event took place.   

In the case of President Hussein, nothing could have been more public or vulgar.   We were given graphic accounts of how Mr. Hussein was kept from sleeping and how he was denied a last cigarette.   We saw video of him being led to the gallows and the noose being placed around his neck.   Newscasters smugly announced how Mr. Hussein, in his final moments, had been stripped of all dignity and gripped by fear.   Personally, I think he conducted himself with as much dignity as anyone could given the circumstances.   At this point, thankfully, the news video ended.   We were told that a few moments later the 69-year-old senior, was dead.   If this had not already epitomized society today, worse was to come.   It was not enough that Mr. Hussein had been executed in the most public of fashions.   The world was now clammering to see the execution in its entirety.

Unsurprisingly, armchair ghouls got what they wanted.   Someone at the execution with a cellphone had recorded the actual moment of the execution, and it can now be viewed on You Tube and various other Internet video sites.   Along with the disgusting spectacle came more details of how some of those present at the execution, laughed, clapped, cheered and danced as Mr. Hussein dangled, dead, at the end of a length of rope.   Psychologists have opined that this sort of thing is a natural reaction to a sudden death.   I feel that they might be mistaken.   I have never seen anyone dancing at the scene of a fatal road accident.   Nor have I seen it on the battlefield; in hospices; or anywhere else that death occurs.

As we enter 2007, it is evident that we live in a society where there is scant regard for the sanctity of human life.   We are living in an age where vulgarity; bad manners; and dishonesty are seen as positive traits, and which should be warmly embraced.  

It is time for us to reverse this trend.   It is time for a return to integrity.   It is time to believe in the ideal of equality and respect for all.   It is time to practice peace, harmony and understanding.

For those insistent upon making a New Year's resolution; forget dieting and giving up cigarettes, etc.; let's give up being the most wretched generation the world has ever known.

Last week at work, and whilst eating lunch, my colleagues and I were discussing the moment each of us discovered that Father Christmas (or Santa Clause as he is more popularly known here) really didn't exist.   For me, Father Christmas ceased to exist on the 25th December 1959.   Unlike everyone else at the lunch table, the discovery had brought immense relief to me.

All the while that I was growing up, my parents convinced me that Father Christmas was a sort of Yuletide Robin Hood character.   According to them, during the night-time hours of Christmas Eve and Christmas day; Father Christmas traversed the globe.   His mission was to go into the houses of naughty children, take their Christmas presents and then redeliver them instead to children who had been very good during the course of the previous year.

Every Christmas Eve, I used to go to bed with the feeling of absolute dread.   I used to lie in bed fretting over the fact that at some point during the night, a villainous old man was going to break into my bedroom and unload all this hooky gear onto the end of my bed.  Thoughts of what if the police came and thought it was me who had stolen everything, flashed through my mind, along with all manner of other less than happy occurrences.   Usually however, I was sound asleep before the "burglary" occurred.   I remember that I used to wake up, look at the presents on the foot of my bed, and gave thanks to God that he had been and gone; and, that I was safe for yet another year.

Christmas Eve 1959 arrived.   Before going to bed, my parents insisted, as they always did, that I placed a mince pie and a small glass of sherry on the hearth for Father Christmas.   I remember thinking to myself that if Father Christmas had a glass of sherry at every house he visited, he would be well drunk by the time he got here.   It was then that a most terrible thought occurred to me; what if Father Christmas was so drunk when he got here, that he forgot that he was supposed to deliver gifts, and instead mistook me for a bad child and decided to take all the gifts away.   My parents had dressed me in pajamas that made me look like a Christmas present; what if he mistook me for a Christmas gift and took me away?   Worse, what if he decided to deliver me to some kids in India; how would I ever get home again?

I climbed into bed.   The thought struck me that if I took my pajamas off, at least I wouldn't look like a Christmas present and I might be spared an overnight trip to the Asian continent.   I lay there, naked, praying for sleep to come and rescue me from this awful predicament.   Sleep didn't come.   My stomach was churning; my heart was racing.   I prayed to God that I would fall asleep before this criminal slid down our chimney and came looking for me.   Time passed; still no sleep.   Then suddenly, my worst nightmare was realized.   I could hear someone turning the handle of my bedroom door.   He was here! 

The door opened, and I could hear someone breathing.   The breathing was getting closer and louder; it was him!   Father Christmas was at the end of my bed with all his stolen loot.   My heart started pounding.   I started to sweat profusely.   My breathing started to get more rapid and shallow.   I felt hot; I felt frightened.   I couldn't stand it any longer.   Suddenly, I sat bolt upright in bed, and screamed as loudly as I possibly could.   As I started to scream, I heard my dad scream.   The light went on, and for me, that was the end of the Father Christmas myth as I knew it.   By now, my father was muttering to my mother: "What the hell's the matter with him?   He nearly gave me a bloody heart attack; bleedin' kids…."   By now I was calming down.   How could my parents have been so cruel as to terrify the life out of me every Christmas Eve?   Maybe being relocated to India was not such a bad idea after all?

Like most people, Curtis and I have, each year, discussed the issue of a Christmas tree.   Curtis is a true traditionalist and insists that a tree isn't a tree unless it is real.   I have to admit, that whilst I like a real tree, the idea of buying a pre-lit tree is very appealing.   You take it out of the box, plug it in and hey presto, instant Christmas.   However, when it comes to decor, taste and styling; Curtis's view is usually the one that prevails.   One day, I will take a picture of a building near us and post it here.   I love the way they painted it and would happily paint this house in the same scheme. It is then you will appreciate why it is a good thing that in this particular realm, Curtis's ideas prevail.

In previous years, we have done the traditional thing and have driven off to the Christmas tree farm to pick out our seasonal guest.   We usually forgo the delight of riding in the haywain out to the field with dozens of noisome children, preferring instead to pick one that has already been cut and which is pretty much good to go.   Now there are drawbacks to this; how a tree looks in a field surrounded by other trees often does not resemble one's mind's eye view of how it will look back in your house.    One year, we brought home a modest tree which ended up being far taller than the height of our room, and was so wide, that we had to move half of our furniture into storage just so as to accommodate it and still allow us passage to the bedroom.

Last year also saw a change in our vehicular arrangements.   For many years, we had a Jeep with a roof rack.   Suddenly we found ourselves with smaller leased vehicles, without a roof rack.   Obviously, this presented a dilemma at Christmas tree buying time.   As a fervent believer of the ideal that every problem can be solved over the Internet, I discovered that I could get a Christmas tree shipped from Maine to Missouri via UPS and, it worked out cheaper than going to the local Christmas tree farm.   It was a terrific arrangement and, the tree that was delivered was the perfect shape.

This year, around about October, I got a letter from the Maine Christmas tree people, offering to do the same as the year before, at the same price.   It was a no-brainer.   I sent confirmation of the repeat order.   By return, they told me that the tree would arrive on 4th December.   A couple of months later, and on the day promised, our cute, blond, UPS guy, heaved the box containing the tree to our front door.

Curtis was off work today and before I left for the day, said that he would get the tree out of the box, cut off the end, and stand it in water and let it rest a while before we begin decorating it.   When I got home this evening, the tree was out of the box, but still in the garage.   Seemingly, cutting the end off was proving to be a challenge.   It was almost as if our tree had titanium instead of bark.   Two saws later and the end was finally off of the tree. Curtis heaved it into our lounge and meanwhile, I set about lighting our wood burning stove (yes, it is still frigid in Missouri).   No sooner had I set light to the kindling, than Curtis was calling from next door.   Seemingly, I needed to hold the tree straight whilst he did all this blokey stuff of tightening up bolts that keep the tree in place and upright.   Finally everything was set and I let go of the tree.   Everything was fine, until we decided that we needed to move the tree to the spot that it was going to spend Christmas.   It fell to one side, and so we had to go through the whole performance of lining it up and tightening the bolts even further.   Finally, the bolts were in place and the tree seemed to be able to stay upright unaided.

I went into our back parlour to look at our much neglected wood burner.   Fear shook me to the very core.   The stove pipe was glowing red - believe me, this is not a good thing.   I rushed and shut the stove down and prayed that our roof/chimney/house wouldn't catch fire.   I ran outside to check the chimney and thankfully, there were no flames coming out of it (this has not always been the case; we have had a chimney fire before).   Eventually, calm returned and we got on with things as we normally do.

Later than evening, Curtis stated that the tree looked as though it was beginning to relax as its branches were beginning to droop a bit.   We both agreed that a journey from Maine to Missouri in the back of a UPS truck whilst all the while being confined to a box, must be quite stressfull.   We were not surprised therefore, that the tree needed to rest a little before being decorated.  

That all said, there are odd things that turn me on in this world; and suddenly, the very notion of our UPS guy putting me in a box and driving me half-way across the continent in the back of his truck suddenly became erotically appealing.   Bizarre or not, at that very moment, I was envying a Christmas tree.   Am I odd, or is plain old vanilla sex that good, that no one even contemplates their inner self? 

Today, the weather in Missouri took a turn for the worst.   After weeks of balmy 72F temperatures, we suddenly plunged down to the late 20's.   We awoke this morning to ice rain.   Naturally, this was not unexpected.   The local weather forecasters and other harbingers of doom had predicted icy rain for Thursday and heavy snowfall for the Thursday/Friday overnight.

Our driveway is unusually steep, and so winter weather presents challenges.   This morning, we shoveled and salted and eventually,  my love-bunny was able to drive out to work.   (I am so dead when he reads this.)   Fortunately, I didn't have to go to work today, as work was canceled, and which meant I didn't need to leave the house.   I had already heeded the warnings and unlike some, instead of stocking up on milk and bread, I stocked up on ice-melt; bacon; eggs; beer; wine and gin (not necessarily in that order). 

The day was as predicted, relentless ice-rain, and for now, we are still awaiting the arrival of the snow. This evening I watched the local news program.   I tend not to watch local news because by and large, it has very little news content.   On any given night they read off the number of people murdered in St. Louis for that day, and pretty much, that is all we get to hear.   (Can you believe it, St. Louis has been named the most dangerous city in the U.S.?   Don't answer that because yes, you probably can.)   Anyway, today, no murders.   Instead, a solid hour of weather news.   I sat there thinking that we all know that the weather is bad.   They have already told us what to expect.   Why then are you going on and on about it for a whole hour?   Intriguingly, where's the other news?   You know, that boring stuff like a typhoon killing 146 people in the Philippines?   No, instead, we went "live" all over the viewing area to hear various reporters tell us that the weather is bad and snow is on the way.

OK, I suppose you have to forgive the local media for their news coverage.   The majority of people aren't really that interested in anything that goes on more than 50 miles from where they live.   Consequently, local media gauge their audience and give them what they perceive that they want.   However, in all this weather chaos, I find it incredulous at the amount of madness that seems to prevail.   Currently, the highway patrol are advising people not to travel unless their journey is absolutely vital.   Courtesy of the local news team, we had a live interview with some poor motorist stranded at a fuel stop.   The reporter asked him why he was out driving.   The driver responded that normally he would not attempt to drive in such treacherous conditions; however, tonight, he had an important high school basketball game to watch and that was why he was out on the road.   The reporter asked the valid question, given that all the schools were closed today, what made you think that a high school basketball game would be going ahead.   He sheepishly replied that as basketball was an indoor event, he assumed that it would go ahead as usual.

In our own small town, roads are currently, for the most part, impassable.   I am listening as I type to the emergency services on my scanner.   About an hour ago, the ambulance people were dispatched to a rural address to deal with someone complaining of a stomach ache; a stomach ache that he has had since yesterday morning.   Yesterday morning, evening and night, the roads were clear, the weather was fine.   He could have gone to see his GP.   He could have got a relative to drive you to the emergency room.   But no, he waited until the roads are impassable, and then calls the ambulance, which in turn, has to wait for MODOT to plow in front of them so that they can reach the address.   I know one cannot help being ill, but please, don't wait until the middle of the night to have people address something that has been manifest for 36 hours.

Hot on the heels of this, the police receive a call from someone reporting that a suspicious car has driven into the driveway of the house opposite.   The address is at the top of a steep hill.   The police have to wait for the city road crew to plow the road before they can respond.   They arrive, and find that the suspicious vehicle belongs to the owner of the house, who arrived home later than usual owing to the weather.   OK, it is really nice to have vigilant neighbors.  However, the reality in this case is that the neighbor saw what she thought to be a suspicious vehicle.   She then watched her neighbor get out of the vehicle, go to the front door of his house, unlock it with his key, and go inside.   It is only then, that she got on the phone to the police and told them only the first part of the story.

If this wasn't enough drama for one evening, 15 minutes later, one of the city road crews calls in to say that they have fallen off of the side of the road and that they are stuck.   They ask for the other crew to come and tow them out; and, as they hadn't bothered to put on the snow chains before they left, could that crew also bring their snow chains!

The US Post Office have for a long while, touted the advantages of having a post office box over having your mail delivered.   The many advantages are apparently, that your mail is safe and secure.   You can collect your mail after 8:30am weekdays, and 9:00am on Saturdays and holidays.   When you go on vacation, you don't have to have the mail held.   This is especially handy of you are going away for only a few days, because it is a little known fact that when you have your mail held, it has to be for at least a week.   You want your mail held for just three days?   Sorry, no can do.   On the face of it then, a post office box sounds to be a pretty sweet deal.   However, before you sign on the dotted line and hand over your cash, there is a reverse side to the coin.

Firstly, and just to get it out of the way; you pay the post office money not to deliver your mail.   I mean, the inconvenience of not having to leave the post office to deliver your mail must be a really big burden for them to endure each and every day. No wonder the want big bucks given all the inconvenience you are putting them to.

Secondly, having a post office box is a real bind if you do any amount of online shopping.   UPS; FedEx; DHL; Airborne Express, etc., do not deliver to post office boxes.   I find this really weird given I see the UPS truck outside our local post office every day, and the guy wheeling into the post office cart loads of packages.   Seemingly, the post office use the like of UPS to transport their mail all around the country.   However, if the package originates at UPS, then the post office will not accept delivery of it.   Is that fucked-up or what?   So, you buy your online stuff and then you get into a wrangle because you have to put your physical address as the delivery address, and then the transaction gets refused, because your billing address is a post office box and not the physical address.   The vendors tell you that it is quite easy; all you have to do is tell the credit card company that the physical address is a valid delivery address.   I have jumped though this hoop.   You wait for ages to get through and then they tell you that you cannot have your physical address as the permanent delivery address.   They will flag it as OK this month, but next month you have to call back and go through this shit all over again.   If you rent a mailbox at the UPS store, they take in all of your mail without any drama at all - I really wish I had one of those in our town!

Third problem.  You have just worked the third shift.   At the end of your shift you go to the post office to collect your mail.   There is one of those yellow notices telling you that you have something that doesn't fit into your box and you need to call in when the post office is open.   So now you have to disturb your sleep in order to go to the post office to collect the package.   In the same light, you have returned from vacation.   You're too exhausted from the journey to worry about collecting your mail on Saturday evening and so you put it off until Sunday morning.   You go to the post office and find a note telling you that there is too much mail to fit into your box.   Come and collect it when the post office is open.   The bizarre thing is, the post office markets post office boxes to people who cannot really come to the post office during the day.   However, if you buy into the PO Box bullshit, they constantly want you to go to the post office during the very time you cannot go.

As you have all probably gathered by now, we have a post office box.   We didn't really choose to have it, but the previous occupant of our house had a post office box.   The main reason for it was that we live on a very fast road with a blind bend.   If we put a mailbox up, there would be no pull-in for the mail carrier.   The mail carrier would have to stop in the carriageway to deliver to the mailbox.   However, the blind bend means that whilst the mail carrier is parked delivering mail, semi's come barreling around that corner at 50-60 mph, and by the time they see the mail carrier they would have only 60 ft to stop dead in order to avoid hitting the mail carrier.   Most people know, that a semi traveling at 55 mph needs more than 60 ft to stop; in fact, most of that 60 ft would be taken up with "thinking time" prior to applying the brake.

With all this in mind, I was stunned when I went to the post office this week.   I retrieved our mail from the post office box, and noticed that our mail was encompassed by an elastic band holding in place an "Official Mail Forwarding Change of Address Order" with a yellow Post-It note stuck to it.   The post it note said: "You have 1st class mail coming to *address*.   If you don't intend on putting up a box then please finish filling out this card so we can fwd to you - thanks".   The mail carrier had filled in the form completely and all we had to do was sign at the bottom.   OK, this might have been very kind, but given that we are talking about three letters a month (the car payment company and the mortgage company apparently will not address mail to a PO Box owing to company policy).   Meanwhile, it is evident that the post office already knows where the mail is to go because they put the change of address card in our post office box.

I had a very high regard for our local post office until this incident.   I thought that they were terribly nice when they dealt with things like old ladies taping money to the outside of envelopes, which they would then exchange for postage stamps.   I thought that they were really nice when they helped carry packages to my car.   However, this incident has just left a bitter taste in my mouth.   We don't put up a box and insist upon home delivery specifically for the ensured safety of the mail carrier.   Suddenly, after four years, the mail carrier is getting all pissy about it, and this, coming pretty much on the threshold of the season of goodwill.   I am assuming that this year, 65041 is a goodwill free zone?