Category: cha-cha-changes

Old habits like these are so hard to break*

It was seventh grade. She was Mrs. Olivas. Typing teacher. A rail thin Hispanic woman with long black hair, parted down the middle, a sour face and an even sourer disposition.

(sourer doesn’t sound right, but Word grammar checker told me that “more sour” was incorrect…so let’s roll with it)

Mrs. Olivas taught my brother, well ahead of me in school. She taught my sister.

And then she taught me.

There we all sat, trembling, at the keyboards of electric typewriters distributed about the classroom. Eyes forward. No looking at your fingers!

Mrs. Olivas would wander the room, shouting letters like a drill sergeant. We would type what she shouted. In unison our keys would strike the paper.

My sister had warned me, with her accent, her “v” sounded like “b” and vice versa. And she graded harshly when you got it wrong.

Mrs. Olivas taught us that after every period ending a sentence, you hit that space bar twice.

End a sentence, space twice, start the next sentence.

One space looked too crowded. Too hard to tell where one sentence ended and the next began.

Two spaces.

No questions. Don’t ask. Two spaces.

I follow this great lady, Debbie Ridpath Ohi, on Twitter (her screen name is inkyelbows). She is a writer and creates spot on comics about and for writers.

So imagine the shock and awe in my world when I read the following re-Tweet:

@inkyelbows From literary agent @Ginger_Clark “Authors: stop double spacing after every paragraph. It’s unnecessary.”

What?!? Sputter sputter. What!?!?

I say…..WHAT?!?!

Ok, to be fair, Twitter itself had me changing my typing habit. Why type two spaces when that takes two of the precious 140 characters? So I figured in the Twitter-verse, it was ok.

But in my regular writing? Stories, emails, blog posts. Can I stop?

Period-space-space is in my muscle memory! It lives in my cells!

Seventh grade was almost thirty years ago! If I don’t period-space-space won’t Mrs. Olivas come haunt me in my sleep like the La Llorona of the Smith Corona?

“Peerrrioood-spaaaaace-spaaaaace,” she will howl outside my window!

I found this bit of explanation online: ” It is generally accepted that the practice of putting two spaces at the end of a sentence is a carryover from the days of typewriters with monospaced typefaces.”

So to do a period-space-space is something of a throwback. It marks me as “old school.” Someone who learned to type on an actual typewriter.

Ok, fine. I’m trying. Every day I’m trying to retrain my obstinate thumb to only tap that space bar once. Just once.

It’s tough! I still have to do a find and replace when I finish any document, including this blog post.

I’m too old to learn new tricks!!!!

Waaaah!

Oh, and:

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

*apologies to Hank Williams Jr for bastardizing his lyric.

Coming tomorrow: “Three Grammar rules that are okay to break.” My world is off its axis!

I’m just an ol’ fashioned girl

Sort of, anyway.

I mean, over the weekend, in fact, last night, I had occasion to make dinner for my husband. I admit, there is something so *deeply* satisfying to cook for my man, and even more so when he took a first bite and made a yummy noise. Gets right to the heart of me!

Ok, so here’s another way I may be a bit stodgy. Ladies, listen in here… The weekend just past was Labor Day.

And we all know what that means, right?

Of course, no wearing white after Labor Day. We can wear it again come Easter.

There, I said it. I know, I know, that rule is out of date and there is such a thing as “winter white” and so on.

To me, this rule really applies to two items of clothing…pants and shoes.

A nice crisp white blouse with darker pants is fine.

But pair that with white shoes? *gasp*

My mother, who was, in her day, quite fashionable (don’t scoff dear mum, I have the photos to prove it!), taught me the no white after Labor Day rule.

But then she also gave me the handy carve out that, since we lived in New Mexico and the weather stayed warmer in New Mexico than, say, eastern climates, wearing white a little bit longer was acceptable.

But no, I took the rule entirely to heart. Nope, nada, ain’t gonna do it! Back in my college days living in the sorority house, I was one of *those* girls who would point and gasp in horror when one of my sisters dared to sport a pair of white heels in the month of September.

Really rude, I know.

Then again…who wears white heels? Seriously.

I seem to have zero trouble following my own rule because…I don’t own a pair of white pants. Really, there are only a very select group of women in this world who should be allowed to wear white pants. The rest of us can sit out this fashion, trust me.

And I’m pretty sure I don’t own any white shoes either, if you don’t count athletic shoes, which I don’t. (and mine aren’t white anyway)

Pretty much, in my middle years, I’m less and less inclined to get uptight about this rule.

And what kicked off this whole train of thought was an article in Time discussing the origin of the rule. Turns out the history is a bit fuzzy.

Ah well.

Really, in fashion, to each their own, right?

(I’m looking at you, Lady Gaga)

Oh sweet, delicious, sticky irony!

“Younger people at the moment are very mouthy and aggressive,” he complains…”

Guess who said that?

Go on…guess!

No, really, you’ll NEVER get it.

It’s too…too…..deliciously ironic!

Ok, I’ll tell.

I just can’t hold it in anymore!

Ready?

Johnny Rotten!

No, really. Here’s the article!

Hey, you kids! Get off my lawn!!!

As the world keeps tilting and turning

And there is nothing you or I can do about it.

Today heralds the incoming month of September.

Labor Day, the “official” end of summer, is nigh.

And, if you are perceptive, over the next days, you can sense a change in the atmosphere. The earth has moved in her orbit a tiny bit, and the angle of the rays from the sun are a little less direct, a bit less overhead, more muted.

The days get moment by moment shorter.

When the breeze blows by on a warm day, you catch the faintest bit of chill in the air. Almost imperceptible, but it is there.

And Fall starts to move in, unpack its red and gold and yellow hued bags, and set up residence.

September is the month of still summer warm days but cooler nights. Of State Fairs and rodeos and roasting chiles. In the Bay Area, the crab fishermen start patching nets and negotiating rates, getting ready for the Fall harvest.

An extra blanket may find its way onto my bed. The Feline will sleep a little closer to her humans.

There is talk of Halloween in the air. “What are you going to be” and bags of miniature chocolate bars for sale.

Soon pumpkins will be lit with candles and ghouls will rule the night.

But today, oh today. Today is still baseball and flip flops and cinnamon flavored churros. In small towns, talk of “will that steer take the blue ribbon this year” and kids are back in school and the public pools grow quieter.

The day is still warm and I still grip, and grip *hard*, to the last, butter slippery straws of summer.

Oh so much happier!

Ok, confessional time. Yes, I’m owning it here, publicly, on my blog.

Here we go

Due to the immense amount of food they provide here at my job, cookies, cakes, lots of candy, full lunches, parties, celebrations, the whole nine yards….

I *might* have maybe, sort of, kind of….gained some weight.

I know. *gasp*

Not a lot. But enough to make most of the clothes in my closet feel tight.

So, I do that thing that women do, “Oh, I’ll lose this. I don’t need to buy new clothes! I’d just buy them and have to give them away, what a waste of money!”

What do I do? I wear the few items that fit over and over. And wear the tight things and sit at my desk with a wince as I get marks on my body from the clothes.

So, I just…I don’t know…gave up. I started dressing like crap. If you know me, you know clothes and style matter to me. So this is REALLY giving up.

I’m not proud of it.

Well, as fate will do, I had a *very* important meeting today, one where I needed to be on my game. And I needed to dress in a businesslike way.

In preparation, I tried on all my current dress pants. Yeah. No luck. Ok, I could get them on and zipped, but they were tight and immediately began pressing into my waist.

This isn’t humorous.

With fear in my heart, a couple days ago, I took to the mall, shopping discount outlets looking for *something* I could make work. Something I could wear and look professional and still be comfortable.

Guys, you have to know. To a woman…shopping for pants is the seventh level of hell. I don’t know why, it just is. Only slightly more appealing than shopping for a swimsuit.

The mall I visited is all broke down and busted (like many malls are these days) and it was a very hot day in the Bay Area. The entire mall had NO air conditioning, so shopping for pants (ugh!) with a sheen of sweat on your brow is not amusing. May I reiterate: NOT!

And being the cheap ass that I am, I wanted something at a low cost.

So. I found a couple things. The quality was only so-so. I wasn’t overjoyed with the items, but ok. I’d have something to wear.

I was depressed.

Then, yesterday I had an inspired idea. There is a store I used to shop at quite a bit, but then drifted away from. Their stuff is good, stylish, but often a little pricey. Their last couple of lines were not attractive at all, so I had moved on.

But I remembered that they usually stock a good range of sizes.

Yesterday after work, I went to this store. And I almost cried. In addition to air conditioning, they had gotten in all their new Fall line and much of it was TOTALLY my style. And sizes! Oh the size choices. I tried on some stuff that was too big! Some too small, but they had the next size.

And their prices were not that bad, actually. Reasonable. They’ve clearly made a shift to help with the economy.

So I stocked UP. I mean, I went a little nuts. I bought good quality clothes that fit and make me feel *good*. I bought a whole new wardrobe!

I walked out smiling. Today I’m wearing one of the new outfits and I am walking so much taller. My pants fit! They don’t bind. My waistline has been spared for the day. My whole outlook has vastly improved.

Ladies! Don’t give in to stuff that cuts and binds! Wear clothes that fit and feel good!

(and yes, I’m cutting back on the feed rations and exercising. Lifelong battle.)