Packaging

I bought new swimming goggles. They came in a two-pack. I think there was more plastic in the packaging than there was in the goggles themselves.

It’s amazing how things are wrapped up these days. To get into the packaging often takes great skill and patience. And the right tools.

You think if you just cut across one direction, the package will open. Then you find there is another whole layer to cut across. You get frustrated and begin to tear the thing in two. Often band aides are needed by the time the package is open.

There are also the little circular bands attached to merchandise with the price and other information on them. Trying to cut these off will ruin your best scissors. They should use this material in banks and high security prisons.

If you order anything online, be prepared for extraordinary packaging. You may order something the size of a small bracelet. At your door will appear a huge box. Inside will be either massive amounts of filler or a box or two within a box. It’s like getting those Russian nesting dolls. Your little bracelet will be somewhere in the middle.

I appreciate the bio-degradable filler or, even better, the new “air-cushions” that have minimal plastic. This means there are no Styrofoam peanuts falling out all over the room and sticking to things when you are just trying to retrieve your purchase.

Speaking of Styrofoam, it seems there is always an inordinate amount of the stuff in some boxes. Ok, we need something around fragile items. But there is Styrofoam everywhere – even around little non-breakable things. It’s a mountain of that hard stuff. Dealing with the packaging is a pain.

Sure, we want our merchandise to arrive in good condition as it is shipped around the world. But some of this packaging is excessive. Sorry if I go on about this. I really shouldn’t let myself get so “wrapped up” in this issue.

E-commerce and Boots

Last year I was considering buying a pair of black boots. I searched reviews of boots. I compared prices of boots. Finally, I purchased a pair.

I thought I was done. But for weeks afterwards I kept seeing boots every time I opened my computer.

They were everywhere. For over a month. They appeared in my Facebook feed. They appeared off in the corner, at the top, or at the bottom of sites. It was ridiculous.

If only I could re-boot my computer and get rid of these ads.

I don’t like big tech trying to direct my attention. It’s supposed to know me better than I know myself. But it obviously doesn’t know I’ve made my purchase and I am done.

It pushes you along in any direction you show some interest. Interested in black boots? How about another style of black boots?  Have you considered brown boots as well? Or maybe green boots?

If it were a human salesperson pestering you about purchasing more boots, not leaving you alone to go your merry way with your purchase, you’d be tempted to varying degrees of rudeness.

That doesn’t really work with the Internet. Yelling at Amazon or Google, “Enough with the boots! Leave me alone!” doesn’t do much.

It’s annoying and relatively harmless to see ads for boots coming your way. It’s another thing when big tech starts to guide your information and choices on politics and the like…

I think I’ll try to play with it a bit. Maybe I’ll do tons of searches on dodgeball championships and tanning salons and just sneak in something I really am interested in. Just for the fun of it.

As handy as it is to look up things online or even shop online from time to time, mostly I want to give e-commerce the boot.

French II

I am still working on French…

I can say, with a fairly decent accent, “I am trying to learn French. But it is difficult because I am old.” I can also say, “I think I can understand you, if you speak very slowly.”

I’ve practiced these sentences in French and I think I’ve got them down. They are a good beginning.

But the conversation always goes downhill after this.

The French speaker rarely follows the suggestion to speak slowly. A blur of French comes my way. After I mentally translate the first bit of what they say, they are already well along in the conversation. I am left behind.

I tried out my French this summer. Let’s just say that I need to keep working on it.

On the first day of staying with our daughter’s in-laws, I woke up early. The dad was the only one up other than me. I thought I’d give it a try. To be fair, I was totally jetlagged…

I tried to say, “I got up early today.” In retrospect, I think I said something like, “I dreamed of myself too much today.”

He looked at me blankly, but with a polite smile.

I repeated myself.

He smiled again, with a tinge of pity.

This isn’t working, I thought. Maybe I should go back to bed.

I listen to French speakers. I can usually figure out the subject of their conversation. I catch about a third of it. In other words, I understand just enough to be dangerous.

They may be going on and on about certain types of American cheeses and how they don’t really work in French recipes. It’s all very lively. I venture into the conversation.

“I like cheese too,” I say.

There is an uncomfortable silence. They try to acknowledge that I am learning French and they are happy about that.

Then another conversation begins. I’ll probably kill it too, given the chance.

I’m not giving up yet. I have to keep practicing. I probably need to stop dreaming about myself, get up early and have some cheese.

Because I’m not too old.

Minimalism- The Capsule Wardrobe

Have you heard of the capsule wardrobe?

I’m fascinated by this hipster trend. You buy only a few pieces of clothing that you really like. Then you’re set. You wear these clothes over and over, but they are high quality and continue to look good. It’s a great idea.

People charge money to help you go through your closet and decide what you should keep in your capsule wardrobe.

I think I know an easier way, inspired by the recent hurricanes.

Imagine a hurricane is bearing down. You have a limited amount of time to evacuate. You go to your closet and grab a few items of clothing. You only have 10 minutes, no time to ponder. You pick a few favorites items.

Voila! There is your capsule wardrobe. You’ve just chosen the things you like the best.

What’s the other stuff in your closet? There is the “if I lose 8 lbs” section, the “if I happen to be asked to an 80’s party” section, and the “maybe my daughter or sister would like this” section. Those clothes could sit there for years.

Come on, admit it. You have things in your closet that you have not worn for a decade, don’t you? I certainly do. And my closet isn’t that big.

The trick to the capsule wardrobe is the shopping aspect. You don’t buy stuff that might work – if I had the right top, if I lost a few pounds, or if we do end up going to the beach next year. No buying on a whim or because it’s such a deal that you can’t pass it up.

But you buy after careful consideration. You buy because you know it will be one of your favorite pieces- right now.

I can’t seem to get it through my head that one piece that costs a bit more, but that I really like and will wear a lot, is worth more than 3 sale items sitting in one of those useless sections in my closet.

It’s not like I’m a slave to fashion. But maybe I’m a slave to bargains.

This “capsule” wardrobe business, it’s a hard “pill” to swallow. But once you do, life supposedly becomes much easier and more organized.

Driving on the Left

I lived in England during most of the 1980’s. I got my British driving license, which is valid, supposedly, until 2027.

Driving on the left wasn’t so hard. I got used to doing things backwards. In fact, driving was not as dangerous as crossing the street. London had those “look right” signs painted everywhere. Even with the signs, it was hard to remember which way to look.

In the US people get their driver’s licenses basically by turning 16 and going through a few steps. In England saying, “I got my driving license” is like saying, “I just aced the GRE.” I knew people who failed the test multiple times.

So when I went (with my Tennessee license in hand) to take the British driving test in rural England, I was a little nervous. In fact, I made an error. I drove down the middle of a narrow, little lane in a village. My tester asked why I was not more to the left-hand side of the road.

“That was a two-way street?” I asked.” Really?” (I was convinced it was a one-way street). It seemed impossible to imagine two cars passing one another on that little lane.

In the end, the tester passed me. That reserved Englishman even cracked a small smile over my thinking that the narrow lane must be a one-way street. He said, “I suppose if you can drive in Tennessee, you can drive anywhere.” I’m not so sure exactly what he thought the driving conditions in Tennessee might be like. Perhaps he pictured Davy Crocket or Elvis zooming along behind the wheel.

I was pulled over once while driving in England. You might think it happened while negotiating a busy roundabout. But, no, it was on a rural country lane. The bobby signaled me to stop. He told me I was speeding through a village.

“I’m in a village?” I asked. There were two or three houses nearby. No stop light. No stop sign.

The officer, hearing my obvious American accent proceeded to explain that the number in the circle on the sign was the speed limit.

At this point I became slightly offended. I knew this. I had a British driving license. “Oh, yes. You are right. I was speeding. I see the speed limit sign now.” I was practically begging him for a ticket.

But to make matters worse, I was in a French car. The officer began to instruct me on the difference between miles and kilometers and where each set of numbers could be found on my speedometer. He was being very polite and using the opportunity to educate me on the proper way to drive in Great Britain. I wanted to say, “I know, just write out the dang ticket.”

He did not give me a ticket.

If I go back to England again, I should take my driving license. I think it will all come back to me. I’ve got until 2027. I just have to watch out crossing the street. That’s where the problem lies.