Screen Time

One of these days, I will convince myself that the world will not suffer in any way, shape, or form if I don't do my daily dive into the internet rabbit hole.

It's a bad habit I got into late last year, as the election loomed and the pandemic raged. I'd read most of my local paper with breakfast. (Sadly, that is no great feat these days; it's a shadow of its once-robust self.) Then, with lunch, I'd read all the relevant articles (not just the headlines) in the New York Times, where I also have a subscription. When I ran out of information there, when I had a few spare minutes, I'd switch over twitter for my daily dose of outrage

It was almost as if some part of me thought I was cramming for a final test, and if I somehow just retained enough of the information of the day, I could ace it, and things would get better.

Things HAVE gotten better, but I don't think the information tucked into odd corners of my overflowing brain helped things along much, if at all. While all that reading definitely made me an informed voter, and helped me to understand what was going on with the virus, I'd venture to say a fraction of the time spent online would have sufficed to give me the information I needed.

With the election settled and the virus cases waning, it's long past time for me to limit my screen time. Keeping up with events isn't a bad thing until said keeping up keeps me from spending my hours on the things I really wanted to spend them on.

There will be no T/F quiz on the current outrageous behavior displayed by many of our elected representatives. No multiple choice test will cover the details of the latest state legislative session. No essay exam will ask me to explain the dynamics behind the explosion of mice eating everything in sight in Australia. (Hey, I never said some of this stuff wasn't interesting...)

But I look around my corner of the world at the end of the day, at my pile of activities left undone because I spent so much time reading 'news', and I regret that I didn't spend most of my time on things I can do something about in the here and now. I've discovered, again, that taking regret to bed night after night doth not make for a good night's rest. (Spending time on screens shortly before bed doesn't help the sleep situation either, so I am told.)

I don't remember the news from two weeks ago, but I do remember the plot of the book I took time to read. And, when I retired, didn't I say one of the main reasons I didn't want to work was that I was tired of looking at screens?  Well, duh! 

It's time, and past time, to change my habits. I don't want to drop the world of news completely, but I want to spend a lot less time there. Spring is here, and I'm tired of looking at my stalled to-do list. Cutting my screen time in half will go a long ways to helping me spend my time on more meaningful activities. I'm going to give it a shot.

Wish me luck!

Ted's House

I've been helping my brother Ted do some work on his new house; the first one he's bought. It's a cute little airplane bungalow; it promises to be a good place to call home. He knew it needed some remedial work when he bought it - the kitchen counters were badly deteriorated, and the floors needed some TLC.

But, as he's dug into the place, he's discovered one problem after another. This wasn't completely unexpected - he knew, given the purchase price, that the place had some issues. He just didn't know what they were before he closed.

Someone used latex paint over the oil on the wood, and the pretty white trim in the bedrooms gets dinged up if you look at it crossways. The tub was plumbed wrong, and has no cold water to the shower. (Ouch!) There was once a fire in the kitchen, and the side of one of the cabinets is badly charred. The floor in the back room addition only pretends to be level. The gas line for the stove isn't actually connected back to the supply. Stuff like that.

The part that has me angry is the part where someone faked out the wiring update. They found coating from modern romex wire, took the old knob and tube wire off the outlets, sheathed it so it looked like it had been replaced, then reconnected it. The setup was a fire waiting to happen; thank Goodness Ted found the issue before he plugged in the floor sander.

Most of the other stuff can be explained away by ignorance and having low standards for maintenance. But this one. This one could have gotten someone killed. And given that they knew enough to fake out the system, the person who did the wiring had to have known what a dangerous stunt they were pulling. In what world is this an OK thing to do?

The whole thing got me to thinking about the cycle of poverty and how people get trapped in substandard housing. (The house isn't in the most wealthy of neighborhoods - people like Ted are coming in and fixing places up, but much the housing stock has been neglected for decades and is in pretty rough shape.) Fortunately, Ted either has the know-how to fix the problems he finds, or he knows someone who does. He can afford the parts to do the repairs, and doesn't have to pay himself to do the labor.

But he is an outlier; most people don't have the skills to be able to do the work themselves. If he were part of the majority, he'd be hurtin' for certain right about now. He'd have put most of his available funds into purchasing the house, only to find he couldn't live there without shelling out a bunch of money he wouldn't have available. No wonder people can't escape poverty. It's a catch-22.

Grrrr.

Tonight, I am grateful he has what he needs to fix up his nest, and that I have some time to help him do it. He'll be moving in soon - the repairs won't be done, but the house will be livable. Once he's in, it won't take him too long to finish turning the place around. Good, bad and ugly, it's all his. It's a beautiful thing to see.

Go, Ted!

Small Enjoyments

Like many (most?) people my age, I need to watch what I eat to maintain a healthy-ish weight. For several decades, part of watching my calories meant I was drinking 2% milk. Somewhere, I'd internalized the notion that that's what I needed to do to keep the weight off.

Now, there's nothing wrong with 2% milk. It's got enough cream to give it some flavor, and it does a decent job of frothing up in my morning latte. But, while young Joe was living here, they recommended whole milk for him as he was weaned off formula. It seemed a bit silly to try to keep two kinds of milk in the already-crowded fridge, so I switched up my morning brew just a bit.

Young Joe and his parents left several months ago, but I haven't yet switched my brew back, nor do I intend to do so any time in the foreseeable future. It turns out that whole milk tastes better than 2%. A LOT better to my senses. Who knew?

I checked the labels, and found that all those years of 'virtue' were saving me a whopping 30 calories per cup, which, for me, translates into about 45 calories on an average day. I do recall the article I read some years ago that informed me that 150 calories per day is the difference between maintaining weight and having the pounds creep on, but I've decided to shave those calories somewhere else.

Turns out, I find the higher fat beverage to be more satisfying; I feel full longer. It tastes better on my oatmeal, it makes a creamier latte.

One of the things I'm working to weed out of my life as I bumble along this new path of mine is needless guilt and deprivation. Somewhere along the line, I learned that it's virtuous to deprive myself of small pleasures, as if skipping those 45 calories each day would somehow make me a better, stronger, happier person, help save the whales, and improve the lives of starving children in some unspecified far away place.

Eh. Not so much.

These days, I'm working on a new approach. Allowing myself the small enjoyment of savoring the creamy taste of the new version of my morning latte helps me to start my day off well. It's a small thing, but I've learned it doesn't take a lot of small good things to change my attitude for the better, and I need all the better attitude I can find these waning days of the pandemic. (To the best of my knowledge, the lives of the whales and hungry children have not been negatively impacted by the change - if I thought they had been, I would reconsider.)

Somewhere along the line, I clearly learned a lesson - indulging myself is a bad thing. If I give in on the milk, who knows what will come next! Cookies for breakfast? Eating dessert first? It's the start of a slippery slope! Hmmm. Clearly, that lesson is outdated and needs to be reframed. I'm pretty sure a lifetime of good eating habits isn't going to go down the tubes just because I enjoy my breakfast a bit more.

Besides, I'm worth indulging

Out and About

Kate has her shots. I have my shots. I have missed her greatly, so once the vaccines took hold, and I was unlikely to either contract the virus or carry it to her, I decided it was safe enough to go see her. I found myself some N95 masks for further insurance while traveling, and booked tickets for California. Other than a 'whoa-Nellie' landing at my quick stop in Phoenix, my trip was trouble free; I got here early last week. She picked me up from the airport. As she hopped out of the car, and gave me a big hug, a tension I wasn't quite aware I was carrying with me evaporated. I've missed hugs.

She's busy with work and Lexi goes to school each day, so we have stayed pretty close to home. I don't mind at all; it's been a wonderful visit. I've been able to reconnect with Lexi, who has, as children tend to do, grown leaps and bounds since we last spent time together. We've been able to relax together in the evenings. Since I'm not working, I've been able to get some of the household chores completed, which meant this past weekend was to-do free!

With routine tasks off the table, we had some time to venture outdoors. Kate chose Charmlee Wilderness Park in Malibu as a good spot for hiking. I've been nursing some sore foot tendons, and the trails there are advertised as family-friendly; i.e. easy on the knees and ankles.

The park was all it was advertised to be. Only a thirty minute drive from her house, it was a world away from the close confines of her suburban neighborhood. We stepped out of the car, onto a trail, and were quickly enveloped within a quiet wilderness area. We could still hear some distant traffic at times, but there were also times where we stopped, and the peaceful quiet that can only be found in nature settled around us. The sun was warm, and we were close enough to the ocean to feel and smell its refreshing breezes. 

A fire had passed through the park last year, leaving its mark in the blackened bark of the trees and the missing trail signs. You could see, as we walked, the fire's erratic path - here it lingered long enough to reduce the trees to withered husks, there, the trees show no sign of its passing.

People have given Nature a helping hand in the wake of the fire, and the land has already begun to heal. Scars remain, but we saw birds and lizards in abundance. The trails have been reclaimed, grass scrub has largely replenished itself, and many of the trees wore a cloak of green despite their charred trunks.

We weren't able to go too long or too far, given the givens of my gimpy foot, but it was long and far enough to awaken a long-missed connection to nature in my heart and soul. It's been too long since I stood in the sun with the wind in my hair and feasted my eyes on nature's unedited landscaping.

On our way back to Kate's house, we stopped by a roadside stand for some fresh strawberries; the young vendor told me she'd just picked them yesterday. I was hungry and bit into one as soon as we got back underway. The fruit was amazing. The aroma, the flavor, the texture - they were as good as strawberries can be.

It was a good day. The outing provided soothing balm for some parts of my soul which have been withering in the dry isolation of the pandemic quarantine.

This, too, shall pass.
Good Is.