Like thousands of others, we rang in 2015 at the Mushroom Drop in the middle of Kennett Square. I thought the event was even better than last year: it didn't feel as jammed, and I didn't see any obnoxious behavior: the one woman who stepped on the back of my boot by accident apologized immediately.
Even though the temperature was in the mid-20s, it just didn't feel as frigid as it did in 2013, merely bracing. People were well bundled up (I am sure I walked right past lots of people without recognizing them), though I didn't see any red-and-white mushroom hats this year. One uncomfortable-looking woman on South Union Street had clearly just come from a fancy party. She was wearing a short dress, black stockings and high heels that I'm sure were great for stepping from limo to red carpet, but not so great for traversing the sidewalks of Kennett.
I briefly considered staying home and watching the live feed of the event, or perhaps a video the next day, but I'm really glad we went. Let's face it, a huge lighted mushroom dangling in mid-air from a crane is a sight not to be missed. The organizers did a great job, and from what I could see a lot of canned food was being collected from the revelers (a volunteer took our bag and loaded it right into the food pantry's truck).
We came into town from the west, and I didn't realize until after the event that only a block away, firefighters were fighting a blaze at a house at Broad and Linden Streets, just north of the Kennett Square Police Station.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
SHOPPING: Two store clerks who make Tilda's life easier
I want to give a shout-out to the workers at two local stores, both in the Longwood Village shopping center, who went above and beyond for me in recent days.
The first is a young man at the GameStop store. My friends convinced me that as a smart, hip middle-schooler, The Young Relative would greatly appreciate a gift card from the store, which sells videogames and the gadgets you need to play them with.
Well, my knowledge of videogames begins with "Pong" and ends with "Asteroids" and "Space Invaders," so the store was uncharted territory to me. I walked in, looked around, and saw lots of signs for unfamiliar games with words like "Assassins" and "Warcraft" and "Batman" in the titles. I was totally at sea and threw myself on the clerk's mercy, asking him how much I should spend on a gift card.
To his credit, he neither rolled his eyes nor named a hugely inflated dollar figure. He simply said that most of their games cost between $40 and $60, so $50 would be a good round number.
Done!
I asked him whether he had a lot of clueless "older" customers like me and he laughed and said some grandparents are extremely well informed and simply rattle off exactly what they want to purchase for the grandkids.
"Some of them know as much as we do," he said, with admiration.
The other worker I want to praise is a middle-aged cashier at Staples who always makes shopping there a pleasure. She's not only very efficient but warm and nice. You get the sense that she enjoys her job and interacting with her customers. She pointed out a rebate I was eligible for but had missed ("You might as well get every penny you can," she advised). She knew exactly what to do with the three credit cards I handed her (debit card; Staples membership card; ink discount card), scanning them in the correct order. Top-notch service.
The first is a young man at the GameStop store. My friends convinced me that as a smart, hip middle-schooler, The Young Relative would greatly appreciate a gift card from the store, which sells videogames and the gadgets you need to play them with.
Well, my knowledge of videogames begins with "Pong" and ends with "Asteroids" and "Space Invaders," so the store was uncharted territory to me. I walked in, looked around, and saw lots of signs for unfamiliar games with words like "Assassins" and "Warcraft" and "Batman" in the titles. I was totally at sea and threw myself on the clerk's mercy, asking him how much I should spend on a gift card.
To his credit, he neither rolled his eyes nor named a hugely inflated dollar figure. He simply said that most of their games cost between $40 and $60, so $50 would be a good round number.
Done!
I asked him whether he had a lot of clueless "older" customers like me and he laughed and said some grandparents are extremely well informed and simply rattle off exactly what they want to purchase for the grandkids.
"Some of them know as much as we do," he said, with admiration.
The other worker I want to praise is a middle-aged cashier at Staples who always makes shopping there a pleasure. She's not only very efficient but warm and nice. You get the sense that she enjoys her job and interacting with her customers. She pointed out a rebate I was eligible for but had missed ("You might as well get every penny you can," she advised). She knew exactly what to do with the three credit cards I handed her (debit card; Staples membership card; ink discount card), scanning them in the correct order. Top-notch service.
DAY AT THE OFFICE: Sometimes it's tough not to be distracted
My current proofreading project is a 300-page book about fool's gold (pyrite). It's clear that the author, a geologist, loves his subject--so much so, in fact, that he has made it his life's work and is writing this book just to share with a wider audience his boundless enthusiasm for this common mineral. Frankly I think he may be the world's biggest fan of the stuff, which he claims is responsible for the discovery of America and pretty much our entire way of life. Technology? Mining techniques? Environmental science? Medicine? Bacteriology? Yep, he links pyrite to all of them.
Anyhow, my deadline is fast approaching, so the past few mornings I've headed out right after breakfast to one of our local coffee shops, where I spread out my papers, plug in my headphones (yoga music) and get to work.
Just as I was about to start today, however, I overheard a conversation at the next table.
"Well, it could have something to do with the fact you locked me in the closet," I heard one woman telling another. From what I could gather, she was recounting how she and a sibling had had an contentious Airing of Childhood Grievances over the holiday.
And then a guy sat down next to me and, on his tablet, started Skyping with a man in China. In Chinese!
It's a good thing I have an overdeveloped work ethic, because my fellow coffee-drinkers were lots more interesting even than the chemical composition and idiosyncratic properties of pyrite.
What I was just as glad NOT to hear, though, was the string of job interviews being conducted at a table near the door. As I was coming in, I heard one applicant saying something about "impacting our facilities"; as I was leaving I overheard another saying, "In short, that's what I know about your company."
CLEANING: Another endorsement for the magical cleaning cloth
A nice fellow came up to me at a Christmas party and thanked me for writing an item a few weeks ago about Streakfree Microfiber Cloths, the cleaning cloths that genuinely work, and with just water, no need for additional cleaning products. In fact, he said they work so well that he actually went searching for more things to clean, both inside the house and in his car. He even ordered some of the cloths as stocking-stuffers!
And no, I assured him, I am NOT getting a kickback from the Baltimore manufacturer (www.streakfreeproducts.net). I'm just glad to spread the word about a humble, low-tech, US-made product that lives up to its billing and truly makes housekeeping less onerous.
And no, I assured him, I am NOT getting a kickback from the Baltimore manufacturer (www.streakfreeproducts.net). I'm just glad to spread the word about a humble, low-tech, US-made product that lives up to its billing and truly makes housekeeping less onerous.
Friday, December 26, 2014
CHRISTMAS: It was a great day "for kids from one to 92"
On the morning after Christmas, we went to Perkins in Avondale, which is usually a pretty mellow place in the morning. Not today: there was a loud, large family making merry two tables away. The noise was no big deal, they were just being cheerful, but thank goodness the usual morning Bible study group that meets in that part of the restaurant had already departed.
The merry-makers were leaving at the same time as we were, hollering good-byes to siblings who were standing right next to them, and while we were in the lobby an elderly woman from the group came up to us.
"Sorry about all the noise," she said, explaining that all her grandchildren were there. Even though she felt the need to apologize, she couldn't conceal her joy at having her family around her. It was very sweet.
"You were pretty lively," I agreed, smiling.
"Yeah, we were thinking of joining you!" said my breakfast companion.
I was fortunate enough to spend part of Christmas Day with another joyful group that included all ages, from an infant (it was her first Christmas!) through two folks in their eighties. The toddler kept us well entertained, especially when he was playing with one of his presents, a toy coffee-maker. This wasn't just a simple percolator; no, it made lattes, and cappuccinos, and even fancy macchiatos. It made a realistic grinding sound and a steaming sound. By the end of the evening he was on his way toward becoming a full-fledged barista, except perhaps when he tried to insert the cluster of plastic beans into the customer's cup.
My sister's branch of my family celebrated Christmas at their home in Minnesota. Both college students in the family were home on their winter break, from Harvard and Stanford, and my sister reports the most memorable present was an record player. Neither of the digital-age youths was familiar with this ancient technology: "What speed do you play them at?" " Is the first song on the outside border of the inside?"
My sister says she got out her old Beatles LPs and played them all afternoon.
The merry-makers were leaving at the same time as we were, hollering good-byes to siblings who were standing right next to them, and while we were in the lobby an elderly woman from the group came up to us.
"Sorry about all the noise," she said, explaining that all her grandchildren were there. Even though she felt the need to apologize, she couldn't conceal her joy at having her family around her. It was very sweet.
"You were pretty lively," I agreed, smiling.
"Yeah, we were thinking of joining you!" said my breakfast companion.
I was fortunate enough to spend part of Christmas Day with another joyful group that included all ages, from an infant (it was her first Christmas!) through two folks in their eighties. The toddler kept us well entertained, especially when he was playing with one of his presents, a toy coffee-maker. This wasn't just a simple percolator; no, it made lattes, and cappuccinos, and even fancy macchiatos. It made a realistic grinding sound and a steaming sound. By the end of the evening he was on his way toward becoming a full-fledged barista, except perhaps when he tried to insert the cluster of plastic beans into the customer's cup.
My sister's branch of my family celebrated Christmas at their home in Minnesota. Both college students in the family were home on their winter break, from Harvard and Stanford, and my sister reports the most memorable present was an record player. Neither of the digital-age youths was familiar with this ancient technology: "What speed do you play them at?" " Is the first song on the outside border of the inside?"
My sister says she got out her old Beatles LPs and played them all afternoon.
ON THE MEND: Clean living and a good immune system
I suppose that everyone just might be right: maybe I am slightly competitive after all.
This afternoon I was bragging about how quickly and thoroughly I routed a nasty Christmas cold, missing only one item on the busy social calendar.
A friend offered an alternative explanation.
"Maybe it was a wimpy cold," he suggested. "Instead of a rhino-virus it was ... oh, a chipmunk-virus."
Gee. Thanks for that.
This afternoon I was bragging about how quickly and thoroughly I routed a nasty Christmas cold, missing only one item on the busy social calendar.
A friend offered an alternative explanation.
"Maybe it was a wimpy cold," he suggested. "Instead of a rhino-virus it was ... oh, a chipmunk-virus."
Gee. Thanks for that.
Thursday, December 25, 2014
AUTOGRAPHED: All I wanted was a right-side-up signature
At last, post-Christmas, all can be revealed about what I went through to buy a copy of "41," President George W. Bush's brand-new biography of his father, President George H.W. Bush.
I thought it would make a great Christmas present for my father, so I went to the Bush Center's website and ordered an extra-special copy signed by the author.
It arrived a few days later. I opened the package and carefully turned to the autographed page.
It was signed, all right: upside down.
I went online and looked up W's signature: the one I had was authentic, yes, just 180 degrees in the wrong direction.
I fully realized the irony of this: Here is a politician deemed by many to be less than intelligent, and he signed a book upside down.
I immediately shared this news on Facebook and my friends, mostly liberals, absolutely ate it up. One wrote to the hip late-night political talk shows that skew strongly to the left and suggested they feature my copy of the book for amusement value.
Others persuaded me that it was far more valuable than a right-side-up book and that I should try to sell it on eBay. So I did, but alas there were no takers.
I spoke to a rare book dealer, and he told me that what probably happened was that W had been given just the pages to sign, not the whole book, and a binding error was to blame.
So finally I called the Bush Center and informed them about the upside-down signature. There was a long silence.
"You have a very unique book," the bookstore person said.
Yes, I realized that, I told her, but I had paid a lot of money for it and really wanted a right-side-up signature. She understood and replaced my copy immediately.
I thought it would make a great Christmas present for my father, so I went to the Bush Center's website and ordered an extra-special copy signed by the author.
It arrived a few days later. I opened the package and carefully turned to the autographed page.
It was signed, all right: upside down.
I went online and looked up W's signature: the one I had was authentic, yes, just 180 degrees in the wrong direction.
I fully realized the irony of this: Here is a politician deemed by many to be less than intelligent, and he signed a book upside down.
I immediately shared this news on Facebook and my friends, mostly liberals, absolutely ate it up. One wrote to the hip late-night political talk shows that skew strongly to the left and suggested they feature my copy of the book for amusement value.
Others persuaded me that it was far more valuable than a right-side-up book and that I should try to sell it on eBay. So I did, but alas there were no takers.
I spoke to a rare book dealer, and he told me that what probably happened was that W had been given just the pages to sign, not the whole book, and a binding error was to blame.
So finally I called the Bush Center and informed them about the upside-down signature. There was a long silence.
"You have a very unique book," the bookstore person said.
Yes, I realized that, I told her, but I had paid a lot of money for it and really wanted a right-side-up signature. She understood and replaced my copy immediately.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)