webster on the web

Earlier this week I came across a very interesting column by Craig Wilson in USA Today. In his column, Wilson discussed marriage, sharing housework, and loading dishwashers. All three topics are, of course, deeply intertwined.

Specifically, Wilson cites a study from the folks at Bosch, a high-end dishwasher company, which found that 40% of couples fight over how to load the dishwasher.

I found that statistic very interesting. For starters, I don’t understand the concept of arguing over how to load the dishwasher. Seems to me, the simple answer is, “You don’t like the way I do it, do it yourself.” Problem solved.

But that aside, I agree that every dishwasher presents infinite options when it comes to loading.  Do you put the small plates with the large ones, or next to the bowls? Which way do you face the bowls? When should an item go on the top rack instead of the bottom? Where do the long utensils go when they don’t fit in the silverware caddy?

There are so many potentially wrong decisions that I don’t even try to help load the dishwasher at a friend’s home, and I don’t want people to help me with mine.

What I really liked about Wilson’s column, though, was how he touched on my two biggest dishwasher pet peeves: 1) do you place silverware face down or face up, and 2) do you have to pre-rinse the dishes?

To me, both answers are clear.

1) Face down, obviously. If you put spoons and forks in the caddy face up, you have to touch the goop on them as you do. Put knives in face up and you risk impaling yourself when you reach in to add that last fork from dessert.

2) Don’t rinse. That’s just redundant, like vacuuming the house before the cleaning lady comes.

I wish Wilson’s column had gone one step further and found studies showing the actual percentage of people who put their silverware face down (the right way) or face up (the wrong way).

And don’t even get me started on toilet paper.

Misty or not, the Adirondack colors were more than spectacular.

So here’s what I learned at camp this weekend:  Asses like applesauce.

No, no, no — we’re talking about donkeys.  Apparently, according to my new friend Jen, the donkeys that live in the general vicinity of Las Vegas like eating applesauce out of single-serve containers. Through a car window.

As you can imagine, there’s a whole lot more to the story than that, but I won’t get into that here. Suffice it to say that was just one of dozens of stories I heard at Camp Gorham last weekend, most of which made me laugh so hard my belly hurt.

The occasion was YMCA Camp Gorham’s Women’s Adventure Weekend, a women-only, action-packed, stress-free weekend where participants could climb a wall, hike a mountain, shoot some arrows, ride a mountain bike, or just sit back in an Adirondack chair overlooking the lake and read a book.

There were about 60 women there, most of whom were from Rochester, several from Webster itself. So I saw a few ladies there I already knew. But the real fun was meeting so many new people and making so many new friends. It’s amazing how quickly strangers can become friends when you bunk with them for three days and hear them cheering you on as you hold on for dear life to the top of a 25-foot telephone pole.

The women of Birch Cabin, and my new friends.

And yes, I did finally get up on top of that pole. And I climbed the climbing wall and rode my first zip line. I kayaked on a lake that was so calm its surface reflected the mountains like a mirror. I went mountain biking and sang goofy songs around a campfire. And in the evenings, I relaxed in front of wood stove in a cabin filled with new friends and laughed till my belly hurt.

It was darn close to being the best weekend ever.

Oh, and aside from that fascinating fact about donkeys, camp also taught me that:

* It IS possible to survive without TV, computer or cell phone for an entire weekend.
* Sleeping in the top bunk is still fun, even as an adult.
* The air smells better in the Adirondacks.
* No matter how much it rains, the autumn Adirondacks colors are awe-inspiring.
* Being able to change into dry socks and shoes is one of life’s simple pleasures.
* It’s so quiet in the woods up there that you can actually hear the autumn leaves as they fall through the trees.
* When you put … another beverage … in a Styrofoam coffee cup with a coffee cup lid on it, it looks just like coffee.
* In Gaga, double-touch isn’t the same as two-hand touch.
* It’s possible to knock an archery target over forward.
* Adirondack chipmunks have some serious attitude.

Photographic evidence that I did stand on top of the pole. Then I jumped straight out to try to grab that trapeze. I was unsuccessful.

I also learned that in Eagle Bay, NY, throwing your sneakers over the power lines counts as entertainment.

Just before the school year began a few weeks ago, one of my Webster Thomas colleagues posted an interesting comment on Facebook. When I read it, I immediately realized that it had some validity.  Now, two weeks into the new school year, I recognize how wise it really was.

The comment said something to the effect of, “It’s nice to get back on a school schedule because you can start looking forward to the weekends again.”

How true that is, at least for me. During the summer, when I don’t have my regular school-day schedule to keep me grounded, I kind of flounder.  You’d think that having all sorts of free time would encourage me to get a lot of things done.  Instead, it encourages me to be lazy, to spread out all my tasks throughout the day — or week — so that things never seem to get done.  And when I don’t have to get up and go anywhere every morning, one day is pretty much like the next — even Saturday and Sunday.

But when school is back in session and I’m back at work, I have to get focused.  I accomplish in a few hours after school what might have taken days over the summer. Laundry. Housekeeping. Cooking. Ironing. All because I simply don’t have the time to putz around.

And of course, being so focused during the week means the weekend’s relative freedom from workday time restraints is that much sweeter.  So by Tuesday, thoughts of the upcoming weekend are already helping me get through the workday.  This week, for example, I’m already looking forward to enjoying some music and lifting a pint at my favorite pub on Friday night, wandering around Village Days on Saturday to snap some photos, and putting my feet up in front of the Bills game on Sunday.

And if I have the time to get some housework done, I might just do that as well.  But on the weekend, laundry and ironing are on MY terms.

If you tend to get a bit bored while pumping your gas, I recommend you take a closer look at the warning sticker on the pump for entertainment. I had occasion to do that yesterday as I was gassing up at Delta Sonic. The grammar nerd in me could only laugh at some of the things it said. Here are the two worst:

“Turn off cell phones or other electronic devices while fueling. Leaving them in your vehicle.”

and

“Do not fill a containers that is inside or on a vehicle.”

There’s a lesson here: Kids, learn proper grammar in school. You’ll need it for pretty much every job — even a job writing stickers.

* * *

I was also at BayTowne Plaza yesterday, and noticed that they finally put some blacktop down on the north side of the plaza in front of the old Tops store.  That finally allowed them to re-line that area, greatly improving the very confusing and contradictory mess of driving lane markings that was there.  Even so, the lane configuration they have chosen still defies explanation, and from what I saw, people are still ignoring the lines and driving wherever they please.

Do you think the people who designed this lane configuration were the same people who painted the lines at Plank and Empire?

I’ve been writing this blog for more than four years now. It has taken me that long to realize a funny truth: The amount of time I put into researching and writing a particular blog is inversely proportional to the that blog’s popularity.

Case in point: A few years ago I wrote a three-part series on Baywinde resident Buddy Gorman, who was the last surviving member of The Bowery Boys, a group of actors who starred in a popular series of films in the ’40s and ’50s.  I spent several hours in conversation with Buddy and many more hours writing the series.

I think maybe a dozen people read all three. (If you want to be #13, click here.)

In contrast, about six weeks ago I posted a blog about hanging laundry.  The idea came to me while I was … well, outside hanging laundry. I spent literally 30 seconds planning it (“OK,” I said to me, “what am I going to blog about tomorrow? Hm, how about hanging laundry?”)  It took me another 5 minutes to actually write it.

It was what I consider a throwaway blog, little more than a placeholder created on the spur of the moment.  Yet it became one of my most popular posts. The D&C chose to publish it in the print edition. Readers posted comments (which doesn’t happen very often). Three separate people have stopped me to tell me how much they liked it.

I’ve always been a little hesitant to post personal blogs like that one. I kind of consider them cop-outs, when I don’t have what I would consider a “good story” in the pipeline. But I might have to reconsider that perspective, because my readers really seem to like them.

Which leads me to another idea I had, which I pull directly from Ann Landers: Do you have a favorite Webster blog? Something that maybe you have hanging on your fridge or on the wall of your business?  Is there one in particular which made you laugh or cry?  If I get some responses, perhaps I’ll re-post some of your favorites.

Or is that a cop-out?

It’s been very quiet around our house for the last few days.  On Saturday morning my husband and I dropped Erin, our youngest, off at St. John Fisher College — a major milestone for her AND for us.  And despite how excited we all were to see the day arrive, it was a very bittersweet event.  Because no matter how excited you are to finally be out on your own, it’s a bit scary when it happens. And no matter how much you’re looking forward to empty-nesting, it’s sad when it happens.

I’ve been struggling to find the right way to put these feelings into words, and then remembered a letter my mother wrote to me my first week of college. She must have sat down immediately after returning home to write it and put it in the mail. She knew I would already be homesick, and she knew that laughter was the best medicine.  It made me laugh till I cried, and I needed to do both.

It was perfect, and I am pleased to share it with you all, and especially with those parents who have just sent your sons and daughters off to school:

Dear Missy:

Oh, I’m so glad you’re settled, temporarily, at least.  And of course I’m not WORRIED about you. You’re a big girl now!!!

(Did you find anything to eat, and where to go for supper? Do you have a comfortable bed? Did you stay warm last night? If it’s hot, will you have enough breeze? Do you like your roommates in the barracks? Do you know your way around? Do you have enough money? Will you have room enough for your clothes?)

Gee, we’ll miss you. I was just saying to your sister when we were taking your bed down, “Gee, I’ll miss that girl.”  She said, “Who?”  I’ll remind her again while we’re out tomorrow putting the ad in the Pennysaver for your dresser and your bicycle.

The neighbor lady loves your new sweater.

Love, Ma

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting on a bench at Wegmans, next to to the store’s child care area, waiting for my husband to finish up some shopping. At one point, a mother came to pick up her daughter, who bounced excitedly through the door with this report: “Hey Mommy, Alissa is my new best friend!”

If only adults could have the same approach to life, and to the new people they meet, this world would be a much better place.

Looking for some cheap entertainment? Poke through your spam folder sometime. Don’t worry, if you don’t actually click on a link, you’re safe. I do this every once in a while when I get bored. I visit my Gmail spam folder and see how many people want to give me money or need help carrying all their money-stuffed suitcases to the United States, or consider me a perfect candidate for a cheap loan. (I don’t get the male enhancement ads very much anymore. Maybe they wised up.)

So those always make me giggle. But if I’m in the mood for some real gut-breaking laughs, I check the spam comments I get on my WordPress blog. Most of them try to commend me on my excellent blog and insightful comments. I think. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.  Here’s an example (and I swear, I did not edit this for clarity):

I wanted to post you that very small remark in order to say thanks a lot as before with your spectacular suggestions you’ve shown here. This is simply remarkably open-handed of people like you to offer unreservedly exactly what a number of people would have offered as an e book in order to make some cash for their own end, notably seeing that you might have tried it in case you wanted. These tactics also acted to be the great way to recognize that the rest have similar zeal just as mine to understand a little more with regard to this matter. Certainly there are thousands of more fun instances up front for folks who read your site.

Thanks. I guess?

I love my kids. But I also love the fact they’re finally old enough to take care of themselves.

I’ve been in Chicago the last several days, doing the tourist thing while my husband attends a conference.  This was the first time I’d been back in the city since my family moved from the northern suburb of Lake Zurich almost 40 years ago.  So in reality this was the first time I have really SEEN the city.  And what I’ve seen I really like.

My two daughters, ages 25 and 18, tagged along with us, and we’ve done some stuff together, which has been a lot of fun. But it’s also been very nice for Jack and me to be able to head out on our own, leaving one or both of them in the hotel room, without worrying that they would kill each other within minutes.

Last night was one of those times.  After he got out of his conference yesterday, Jack and I met some friends (including an old Webster Thomas colleague) at the Billy Goat Tavern, which was just a  few blocks from our hotel. The subterranean diner/bar was made famous in John Belushi’s “Cheezeborger, Cheezeborger” sketch on Saturday Night Live. (They still say it that way when you order it. Strangely, though, they only serve Coke, not Pepsi.)  We had a few cheap beers and a very relaxing visit with our friends.  All the while not worrying about our daughters.

This second adulthood we’re discovering is kinda fun.