What follows are a few things that I’ve (often painfully) learned over time. To wit:
“Better is the enemy of good enough” and “If it works, don’t fix it.”
To all of the perfectionists out there, we who’ve learned to live by the aforementioned slogans understand your need to do what you do. However, we’d like to ask for the same patience and understanding from you.
Thus, even though we admit that certain things (painting the Mona Lisa, brain surgery, smoking pork ribs) do, indeed, require perfection, most others do not. Thus, we neither need nor want to know the latest and greatest: theory of closet organization, phone app, computer, kitchen utensil, method of parking, formula for raising children or grandchildren, manner of folding underwear, or correct way to mount the toilet paper roll.
I could go on.
You see, the rest of us have managed to get along just fine without worrying about the fact that our toothpaste tube is being squeezed from the middle or that our tomatoes weren’t planted precisely the proper distance apart.
And, yes, I can find all of the tools in my tool chest even though the drawers are not labeled.
Treasure the brutally honest people in your life.
They’re the ones who’ll always have the courage to tell you when you’ve screwed up or are about to step into a mess. We all need such people. Some of us on an almost daily basis. Don’t ask me how I know that last.
Most “reality” shows aren’t.
Never were. Never will be. That said, the “Survivor” show I would watch religiously would be the one where they drop the Kardashians and Justin Bieber into the Alaskan wilderness with a pocket knife, one box of matches, and a compass from an old “Cracker Jack” box. That would be entertainment of the first order.
In this time of instant and “convenient” communication, we seem to have misplaced the human element.
As one example, instead of texting someone, pick up your phone, dial their number, and actually speak to that individual. Relearn the pleasant feeling of talking, laughing, crying, arguing, joking, and actually communicating with another person rather than sending some (often misunderstood) words on a small screen.
On that last, the following is an actual conversation I recently had on my now 8-year-old flip phone:
“Larry, did you get my text?”
“I don’t know. Wouldn’t know where to look for it.”
“You don’t text?”
“How the heck do you communicate?”
“You mean like we’re doing now?”
Yes, you may ask me about the firearms in my home.
Carolyn Hax has a column in this paper (“Tell Me About It”) and recently wrote about a mother of twin boys who had a question about asking a neighbor whether there were firearms in the house and how they were stored. She feared that such a question might be impolite or inappropriate. Ms. Hax’s answered in part:
“People who keep guns in the house and take the responsibility seriously enough to host small children safely will welcome a fellow parent’s inquiry about the precautions they take. … People who get offended by your inquiry about precautions are not ones you want hosting your kids.”
Having been raised with firearms in my home, having raised three kids to adulthood while having firearms in our home, and, now, having two grandchildren who frequent our home, I can say that such questions from neighbors and friends are always welcome because they give me the chance to show that firearm owners are not all like the buffoons, idiots, clowns, screwballs and loons that we are often portrayed to be in the media. In fact, if there are individuals who — as a group — truly cringe when they hear about incidents caused by improper handling or storage of firearms, it would be those of us who know the capabilities of firearms and fully accept the responsibilities inherent in having or using them.
Spot on, Ms. Hax. Bravo!
Men who treat women in the manner that Harvey Weinstein allegedly treated them are not now, nor have they ever been, worthy of the title “man.”
That they should be shunned, ostracized, and punished appropriately goes without saying since they truly are “no account trash” — as they would be described in the South.
It always gets worse.
Finally, any smell coming from under the house will only get worse with time. Too, the job of dealing with what’s causing that smell pretty much follows that same rule.
There. You may now add your own observations to the list provided.
Larry Simoneaux lives in Edmonds. Send comments to: firstname.lastname@example.org.