Wait Just A Minute (Or Longer)

Spent two fun-filled days at Disneyland last week. It’s been a few years since my last visit and it was good to see that the place hasn’t changed much. They still have many of the same rides and attractions they always did. Still the same music playing, the same food, and the same aura of “The happiest place on Earth.” Unfortunately, there are also the same long lines as before. I think that’s the number one activity in any Disney theme park, standing in line. Or, maybe it’s walking.

According to my phone, I walked an average of twelve miles per day. Not that that’s bad, I could use the exercise. But still, that’s a lot of walking. I think perhaps they should install conveyors like the airports have. The conveyors could take everyone directly to the next attraction or, across the park.

Of course, since it’s Disney, the conveyors would have to be theme based with a realistic decor so they wouldn’t look so much like a conveyor. And maybe they could make them go faster—you know, make the conveyors fun, almost like a ride. But then, everyone would want to use them and there’d probably be a line.

I know; they’ll never implement such an idea. The large open areas and sprawling walkways, filled with throngs of people are there by design. This system forces people to walk past all the vendors, shops, and games, which entices them to spend money. It also helps to keep the people spread out through the park so as to decrease the number of thrill seekers waiting in line at the rides.

Of course, they could always add more rides; that too, would decrease the number of people standing in each of the other lines. But then that produces a conundrum. The shorter lines (and less waiting) would probably sell more tickets, which would mean more customers—and that would lead to longer lines. So, I guess it’s a catch-22.

On second thought, maybe I should let Disney worry about managing the operations of their parks. I’ll just stay home—where I don’t have to walk twelve miles every day and there are no lines in which to waste time waiting. ~

 

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

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Just Following The Rules

Home alone. Again. My wife, as she is prone to do, has left me. Not permanently—at least I don’t think so. I guess it remains to be seen though. Supposedly, she’s coming home today after a long weekend for a short vacation.

For now, it’s just the dogs and me. But they’re good company. Kind of. They seem to think it’s my fault their favorite person isn’t here. They’re sort of like my grandchildren who make no bones about it; they like Grandma better. But that’s okay, at least they like me! But as one of them recently told me, “I miss you when you’re gone and I’m a little sad but actually, I don’t like you as much.” Translation: It’s hard to compete with Grandma! I know how he feels. I’m rather fond of his grandma too. And no one can compete with her.

When this same grandchild visited this past Saturday, he was very disappointed that Grandma wasn’t home. And, he informed me that he was very sorry but he would not be visiting again until she was back. “It’s just not the same,” he said.

When I suggested I could come visit him, he shook his head. “Not if you don’t bring Grandma.”

“What if I just show up without her?”

He gave me a frown. “Grandpa,” he said sternly, “You don’t make the rules.”

So apparently, according to the “rules,” I’m not allowed to have visitors or visit anyone. And now you know why I’m home alone. ~

 

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

Free Of Charge

Ever notice how many things are run by batteries these days? Phones, cameras, power tools, doorbells, and; all these gadgets and more, have batteries. And I didn’t even mention all the toys that depend on battery power. Then of course, our cars use batteries too. Almost anything, that does anything, runs on a battery. But this is good because it allows for mobility—and in today’s world, we all need to be mobile.

The problem comes in when these many batteries continually run down. And we go searching for a charger. We charge up the batteries and all is fine. But in a (too) short amount of time, the batteries are low again. And so, we are locked in a constant state of recharge. An infinite loop.

I’m not sure about the rest of you but I get pretty tired of every device I own always needing to be charged. I know, if I’d just stop using them so much they wouldn’t require charging quite so often. But that’s not likely to happen—for me or anyone else. We’ve all grown accustomed to using our little gadgets. But always looking for a charger or taking the time required to charge things can be a little annoying. I think it’s time to come up with a better way.

I said all that to say this: The other night I needed to make a call and I wasn’t sure how long the call would last; possibly a half an hour or so, I was thinking. My phone’s battery was low so I thought I give it a few minutes to charge before making the call because I like to be mobile. I have a habit of roaming while on the phone. Back in the day before cell phones, I used to have a twenty-foot cord on my phone so I wasn’t tethered to one spot while talking.

I gave it about ten minutes while I did a few other things, and then went to see how much battery power I had—and it hadn’t changed. The phone hadn’t charged at all. That’s when my wife pointed out that the charger wasn’t plugged in to the wall. She was rather amused I think. Me, not so much.

I did get to make the call—eventually. And as it turns out, it took only about four minutes; I wouldn’t have even had to charge the phone at all. Not until later anyway.

Oh, and one more thing. You may be wondering why the charger was unplugged. Well, that would be due to my wife needing the outlet—to charge her tablet. ~

 

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

On This Day In 1988

September 24th. I’m feeling a little nostalgic today. That’s just a fancy way of saying, I feel old. And a bit puzzled.

I’m trying hard to figure out how it’s possible that thirty years have passed since the birth of my oldest daughter. Thirty years since my wife and I became parents. Thirty years that seem nothing more than a blur. Not that I don’t remember the day. I do. Very clearly.

I recall every little detail: the car ride to the hospital, the nurses and doctors, the room my wife was in, the monitors being set up, and of course, the actual birth; seeing our baby, hearing her cry, holding her, feeling her heartbeat and her breathing. Then there was the calling of everyone for the birth announcement, the visitors, and the excitement. I remember it all.

The problem is all of the years between then and now. That’s what seems like a blur. Sure, I can recall specific incidents, certain days here and there. A lot of them actually. But over all, the years have just gone by almost unnoticed. And that’s sort of sad, and the reason I’m feeling nostalgic—I’m trying to remember as much of the thirty years as I can.

But it seems the life that used to be, somehow got lost in yesterday. Somehow, my baby went from being a newborn to an adult, married with kids of her own—almost in the blink of an eye. And my thirty years of memories are condensed into little snippets, all jammed together.

I guess what I’m trying to say is thirty years should have taken a lot longer than it did. I should have more memories to show for that amount of time. Seems like there should at least be thirty years’ worth. But then, what do I know? I’m just the guy who can’t remember much. ~

 

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

To Make A Short Story Long

Dishes. I don’t like dishes. Wait, that’s not true. I do like dishes, especially when they have food on them. What I don’t like is DOING the dishes. That’s not all that uncommon, I realize. I’m guessing there are very few people who actually enjoy doing dishes.

Thing is, we have a dishwasher; load, add soap, turn on. That’s it. Not difficult. Doesn’t even take much time. And I still don’t like doing the dishes.

Maybe it’s because, like other household chores such as: laundry, dusting, or cleaning the floors, it’s a never ending job. Dishes at my house seem to multiply on their own. Dirty dishes anyway. But clean dishes are a problem too. The clean ones are always in the dishwasher, waiting to be put away, which usually gets done about two minutes before loading it with the next load.

With only two people in the house, you’d think that wouldn’t be very often. You’d be wrong. Between my wife and I, we ran three loads of dishes this weekend. Yep, three loads for two people, in two days. The last load just finished washing—or drying, to be more accurate—and already there are more dishes in the sink, waiting to be washed.

I guess I just don’t understand how two people can mess up that many dishes. I’d like to blame it on visiting grandkids or something but it seems to happen even when they haven’t been here. It’s like the dishes climb out of the cabinet of their own accord, somehow get remnants of food stuck to their surface, and then jump into the sink. I’m fairly well convinced we could go on vacation for a month and every dish we own would be piled in the sink when we returned home.

We’ve tried paper plates and plasticware. We’ve tried eating out. Our dishes didn’t notice; just redoubled their efforts. It would seem then, the only way to win this battle is to get ride of the dishes. Having no dishes means nothing to wash—ever. Brilliant idea, I think. And in fact, I’m already working on it.

Side note: My wife says I like to ramble a lot when I write. “Just get to the point,” she says. Okay. I will. But I still think my so-called rambling makes a far better story than simply writing, “I broke a glass the other day.” ~

 

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

A Whole New Ball Game

I did something this past weekend that I’ve never done before; I attended a soccer game. Probably not anything new for some of you but I’m more of a football kind of guy. I’ve never had an occasion, or reason, to go to a soccer game. Not only that, I’ve never even played soccer.

Although I was involved in many sports in school, and after; not only football, but basketball, baseball, track, volleyball, tennis, and even golf, (I know, to categorize some of those as a sport is a little presumptuous) back in my day, soccer was not even on the list of possibilities. Sure, the school did have soccer balls but we used them to play kickball or dodgeball, sometimes basketball, but never soccer.

But the world has changed. These days soccer is one of the most popular sporting activities for kids—or so I’m told. I’m not exactly a kid anymore so I have no firsthand knowledge on the matter. But my grandson is, a kid that is. And this weekend was his first soccer game. And that’s why I found myself attending a soccer game for the first time in my life.

It was interesting, and it looked like they were having fun. Still, the game seems a little foreign to me. I kept thinking the kids would probably have a lot better time if I gave them a football!

Okay, if I’m being honest, which I am, they didn’t really need a football. They all seemed to be enjoying the game, as did the spectators, including me. But there was one major problem; they don’t keep score. How are we supposed to know who won the game? I know, they’re just kids but I’m from that by-gone era when we didn’t sugarcoat everything; didn’t try to coddle kids, or worry about damaging their self esteem—and we certainly didn’t equate losing with winning. There is definitely a difference. Is it fun to be on the losing team? The answer, obviously, is no, it’s not. But losing does tend to make everyone try harder the next time. Because everyone, including kids, wants to win. If there’s no chance of winning, then why try? Why play the game?

Okay, enough of my ranting. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, just because they (the proverbial “they” from the Land of Anonymity) don’t keep score, doesn’t mean I don’t. I do. And did. And my grandson’s team won!

And just so you know, I successfully refrained from yelling “Touchdown!” for the entirety of the game! ~

 

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

Just In Time For Winter

About seven weeks ago, right in the dead of summer, the air conditioner on my pickup stopped working. The air conditioner itself was fine but the temperature control couldn’t be adjusted. And of course, it wasn’t stuck on the cool setting.

Normally, a non-working air conditioner wouldn’t be much of a problem; I don’t use it much anyway. But, I’m not really fond of heat blowing out of the vents either – not when the outside temps are in the triple digits.

Trouble is, I was busy. So, I didn’t fix it. For seven weeks I’ve been driving with heat blasting on me. Even with the windows down, it was quite warm!

I finally got around to working on the pickup this past weekend. The job took about an hour and a half – to take the dash apart, diagnose the problem, devise a way to fix it, and put it all back together. And yes, in case you’re wondering, it works!

No more driving around sweating! Or feeling faint! But then, it’s now September and the need for air conditioning is quickly fading. Soon I’ll be needing heat instead!

Still, I’m glad the air conditioning is working again; I might want to use it – next summer! ~

 

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.