LULABY AND GOOD NIGHT

My husband, Warren was convinced that his graduate students were all narcoleptics who could sleep through class with their eyes open. Ironically, “World Sleep Day 2022” is on March 18th which would have been his 88th birthday.

World Sleep Day is an annual event, celebrating sleep, held the Friday before the spring equinox of each year. It is hosted by the World Sleep Society (WSS) a nonprofit based in the United States. The slogan for 2022 is, “Quality Sleep, Sound Mind, Happy World.” The organizers must have been asleep when they came up with that slogan.  I like the “Quality Sleep” part, but when listening to some of our politicians where in the heck did they come up with “Sound Mind?”  And, “Happy World?” That takes a sound mind.

Of course, sleep can be a relaxing activity unless you are like my friend who called to tell me that she had just woken up and is exhausted, because in her dream she was cooking all night.
“I was chopping, grating, slicing and peeling all night, but the worst part is that I had to throw away an egg! I can’t talk anymore I’m going back to bed.”

Some people have trouble falling asleep or staying asleep, and others find it difficult to get up early in the morning. I’m pretty good at the getting up part, but unfortunately I wake up with a new hairstyle every morning. I guess that I toss, turn and stand on my head a lot. Also,  my requirement is  that I sleep in a pitch black room. Other people like ankle lights that lead them to the bathroom. The only time I have trouble falling asleep is when I suffer from magnified thoughts such as, “What are the names of all of the people who signed the Declaration of Independence?”

 Sleep uninterrupted can be a rare thing. As Anthony Burgess said, “Laugh and the whole world laughs with you. Snore and you sleep alone.”  I have often thought that the FBI could get a criminal to talk by putting an adorable, tiny baby with big lungs next to his cell at 2 a.m. That kid could really play the sleep deprivation game. “I’ll talk.  I’ll talk.” Just make him stop!”

In case you really want to know, “World Sleep Day” is copyrighted with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office (serial number 85274932). Maybe you could use those numbers instead of counting sheep.

When I told a friend “I sleep really well. ”He said, “That’s because you don’t have a guilty conscience.”  I replied, “Or, perhaps it’s because I have no conscience at all.”

Sleep on it!

Esther Blumenfeld

WHAT JUSTIFICATION?

After my last article, “Deliver Me” several readers asked, “Did your complaints about late newspaper delivery bring any results.” One reader e-mailed, “You think you’ve got it bad, my mail arrived at 7:30 p.m.” Obviously, it’s a conspiracy!

Yes, I did get results.  Today the newspapers arrived almost on time, but I didn’t get one, because they were 4 papers short. I did try one more call to the Philippines Complaint Department, and was told that the delivery person has two routes and no help. So, I responded, “Then the solution would be that all of the people in my building should cancel their subscriptions. That would certainly make her job easier.” Sorry, no more wiggle room.

Nowadays, it seems as if we are surrounded by excuses. When visiting with a friend, I said, “I don’t know what this world is coming to.” A voice behind me shouted, “Can I help you?” I jumped and yelled, “What the Hell!” Turning around I saw Alexa who said, “I can’t find a song called, “What The Hell.” So, a robot tried to put on a good face even though it doesn’t have one.

Another case in point: I understand the excuse that prices have gone up, because as the pandemic waned the demand for goods is  bigger than the supplies produced. However, I never hear the justification that some goods have gone up because of an over-supply of greed.

It’s a given that excuses aren’t necessary when the truth is told. It’s ironic that most people can accept, “Sorry, I already have plans,” rather than, “I’m coming down with something,” which will turn into a bad case of the guilt when you are caught out and about— healthy as a horse, and you have to explain your miracle recovery. The unvarnished truth is unquestionable. It is just the truth. However, there are excuses everywhere.

Jonathon Swift said, “An excuse is more terrible than a lie because an excuse is a lie guarded.” Back in the 15th Century, in order to consolidate power, Vlad the Impaler invited hundreds of guests to a banquet. Knowing that his authority would be challenged, he had his guests stabbed and impaled. By the time this brutal fellow was done he had killed 80,000 people.

Now in 2022 we are experiencing a cruel Vlad the Invader who wants to travel back in time and get his empire back. Because his reasons are cloaked in lies, his excuses for invasion are not believed by the whole world, and he is trying to keep the truth from the Russian population.
So, Vlad, stop mucking about with your cock and bull stories.  Just tell us that you are hungry, and you want to put  another country into your lunch box, because being good for your word is what shows people who you truly are.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, like Steven Wright, I am afraid that “I am a peripheral visionary. I can see the future, but only way off to the side.” and, “Whenever I think of the past, it brings back so many memories.”

Esther  Blumenfeld

DELIVER ME

I finally have had enough! For the last several months the new newspaper delivery person has decided that the morning paper should be delivered in a different time zone. Her “service” has been so bad that she didn’t even dare to put a tip envelope, with Holiday good wishes, in the December newspaper. I’m sure she didn’t want anyone to know where she lives.

Delivery to my Senior Residence is easy. All this person has to do is to get out of her car and dump the papers into a wheeled cart at the lobby entrance. Years ago, the little boy on his bicycle had a much more difficult time. He had to pedal and throw from house to house. Here the Concierge delivers papers to our apartments.

As a former journalist, I am painfully aware that print newspapers may become a thing of the past, but I also know the value of supporting a local paper.  Yes, I know that I can read the news on my computer (as I do with the Washington Post) but I want to read The Arizona Daily Star with my morning coffee.  Losing subscribers may mean losing local news since the paper is already printed and delivered from Phoenix.  And, NO, it is not the fault of the truck drivers, because the problems only began with the time challenged new “delivery” person.

After getting no response  to my complaints from a phone robot or by computer, I decided to trick the robot in order to get a real person. Consequently, when the robot asked “How many days did you not receive your paper?”  I responded, “600.” At that, the robot paused and said, “I will transfer you to a customer service representative.”

A little night music and and then, “Lo and Behold”, I heard an actual man’s voice thanking me for being a subscriber since 1994. I think that my subscription is older than he is, but he was most sympathetic as I relayed my sad story, and added, “There are at least 50 or more subscribers in the building, and you might not want to lose them.”  When he suggested that I read the paper on my computer I responded, “Old folks like print papers, and I have noticed that my young friends who read their papers on the computer often miss something, because they ask, ‘Where did you read that?’ It’s called skimming. There is still something to the value of print.”

Finally, the young man said, “I have forwarded your complaint and the issue should be resolved.” I asked him, “Where are you located?”  He said, “The Philippines.” I said, “Then you aren’t anywhere near Arizona.” I’m not sure he knows where Arizona is on the map.  Of course, I’m not sure that many Arizonans know where Arizona is on the map.

Finally, I thanked him and said, “If the paper is still delivered late, I will come to the Philippines and get you.” He didn’t seem worried. After a week of no improvement, I now understand why the Arizona Star Newspaper Complaint Department is in the Philippines. However, there is some comfort knowing that my newspaper subscription is a little bit cheaper than a year’s worth of toilet paper.

Esther Blumenfeld

SOME OPTIMISTS CARRY UNBRELLAS

“Both optimists and pessimists contribute to society. The optimist invents the aerorplane, the pessimist the parachute.” George Bernard Shaw

Yesterday, I observed a nurse, who was not only wearing a face mask, but also wore a plastic shield over her face. A friend said to me, “That looks very uncomfortable,” and I replied, “Well, she won’t be stung by a bee.”

So, are you an optimist or a pessimist?  I am an optimist, but I am not cockeyed. For some people the glass is half full. For others the glass is half empty. I am just happy to have a glass. For instance, an optimist will think that the Devil will allow Vladimir Putin to enter Hell. I’m thinking that the Devil won’t want the competition.

My favorite comic strip is, PEARLS BEFORE SWINE by Stephan Pastis. It is “caustic commentary on humanity’s quest for the unattainable.” Recently, a pig and a goat were talking:
Pig—“I have so many problems I don’t know where to start.”
Goat—“Whenever I feel like that I sit down and start writing out possible solutions.”
Pig—“1. Get rocket.  2. Leave planet.”
Goat—“Maybe more practical.”
Pig—“Hurry up Technology.  Hurry up Technology.”

That was also my answer during a discussion after a grim lecture about the effects of climate change on our planet. Everyone left feeling dejected about the future. So, the next week I brought an article from the WASHINGTON POST headlined, “A highway paved with recycled diapers may change the cloth vs disposable debate.” The first line in the article, “No it doesn’t smell like poop.” On a road in Wales more than 100,000 disposable dirty “nappies” (rinsed) were shredded and mixed with asphalt over a highway.  Italy has also gone the dirty diaper route. Ah! Ha! In the fight against pollution it’s, “one small step for man (careful where you step) and one giant leap for mankind.”

For those of you who are now being negative remember that “all of us are a bit crazy, but some cover it up better than others.” The pessimist will see the thorns on the saguaro cactus. I will see the flower on top, and the pessimist will say, “But you can’t pick it!” Perhaps there is room for a touch of both attitudes. If you want to see the red sky over the mountains, you have to look up, but don’t trip over the trash can while you are looking.

The optimist says, “Can’t get any better than this,” and the pessimist says, ‘This is as bad as it gets.” Maybe both are right at that moment. There is an unhappy man who lives in my senior residence. He hates where he lives, and I think he hates everyone here because he believes they are just like him. Unfortunately, negative people can move anywhere and be unhappy because they are stuck with themselves wherever they go.

Finally, for the pessimists who view climate change as Armageddon and give up, my advise is, “If you think this planet is bad—just wait until you see the others.”

Esther Blumenfeld

POKING THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

Someone once said, “Cut off your ear and you’re a kook. Paint a picture of yourself with your ear cut off and you’re an artist. Go figure.”

Totally out of my comfort zone, I started to take art classes when I moved into Hacienda at the Canyon two years ago. My first art teacher said, “Everyone is an artist.” Of course she said that before seeing any of my creations.  What I lacked in talent, I excelled in enthusiasm, and for my first endeavor I enjoyed the assignment—painting rocks.  I now have a basket of my colorful painted rocks under a glass table in my office. My favorite is titled, “Rock Band.” All of my rocks are still life drawings unless I throw one off the balcony.

With another teacher, I pursued pencil sketching and then watercolors. I found out that I prefer sketching humans rather than painting landscapes, because all of my landscapes suffer from climate change.  However, I take comfort from Andy Warhol who said, “Art is what you can get away with.”  I’ll toast a can of tomato soup to his memory.

For my favorite class project, the rock teacher put a large canvas on the floor, and we all lined up to create a copy of a Jackson  Pollock abstract painting. We used his “drip technique” pouring and splashing and dripping liquid paint on the canvas. Happily, it turned out quite well, but I doubt it resembled his painting, “Convergence” (1952) because  there didn’t seem to be a single point anywhere. However, although it looked very Pollocky I don’t think it will ever sell for $18,000,000.00 or even $18.00. Pablo Picasso said, “The world doesn’t make sense, so why should I paint pictures that do?” Makes sense to me!

One of my favorite classes was the imaginative assembly of glass art. I designed so many of these suckers that when someone said, “Esther, I really like that piece.” I’d say, “It’s yours!” Now I can visit my glass masterpieces when I visit my friends and let them enjoy the clutter.

Poor Vincent van Gogh put his heart and soul into his paintings and lost his mind in the process. Not to worry! I plan to enjoy my paintings, but won’t go nuts over them.  I’m just going to make art and let someone else decide whether it’s good or not. Right now, I am learning a lot about oil painting in an oil Master Class where we copy a famous portrait of our choice. I am learning about layering paint on my blue jeans and some on the canvas.

Then there’s clay. What a good way to play with dirt!  First I made a basket with a critter sitting inside of it that looks like a dog with a cat’s body. I think the dog wants to jump out but the cat won’t let him.  My latest endeavor is a man’s head with a snake headdress. When finished he may decorate the toilet tank in my guest bathroom, but only if I am flushed with success.

Clay is rather messy, so I shower after each class. One morning I woke up and discovered a tiny lump of clay on my forehead.  It is now somewhere in my bed. Ah, the life of an artist.

The art gallery in my apartment is spread out. Sketches and paintings are hanging on the inside of my closet doors, and jumping about when I wash sheets in the laundry room. Only I am allowed to view the exhibit, because—after all— it is a very private showing.

Esther Blumenfeld