Group dynamics

Yes I'm back from my trip to Italy. The first thing I learned is that, in Italy, bathrooms are somewhat scarce, and even the best restaurants have two at the maximum of  toilettes. Half way through the dinner, I learned to leave the table and do my business if I wanted to avoid a line. As a point of patriotic pride, we can all be proud of the fact that America has the best and most plentiful bathrooms. Travel the world you may, no one has toilets like the USA.

As this was my first trip with a group, I was fascinated with the group dynamics. Our group had a wide assortment of ages, 30 to 88. Professions from pharmaceutical engineer to out of work actor. We had a writer of young adult fiction, who, when googled, also wrote erotic fiction. It, in general, was a jovial group. I hope they give their livers a rest now that they are back in the world of modern bathroom conveniences.

There was a budding romance, but alas, by the last two days, there was a falling out. There were rivalries, malicious gossip, and a few catty remarks along the way, but in general it was a harmonious group.

Cliques naturally formed. A group of twenty doing everything together would be unwieldy. The cliques mostly formed among people based on their previous ties. I was even allowed into a clique. Most people stayed in their cliques, but I noticed there were a few floaters. One woman took the boat ride with group A but then sat at the table of group B for dinner. Another floater turned up at the swimming pool unexpectedly.

I was sitting in my hotel room watching the tv, an American western with German voice overs, when I decided on a lark to have a beer in the bar. When I entered the bar I found a merry group from the tour imbibing and telling drunken anecdotes. The anecdotes were in English. There were more than a few latecomers to the free breakfast the next morning.

Editor's note: No, no one died in the swimming pool. New blog in the Sixties.

Husking corn in the supermarket

Recently, I noticed groups of people shucking corn in the middle of the Shop-Rite. There was a huge barrel they were using to collect the stalks. They all seemed so industrious.

Occasionally I do buy corn in the summer but I never bother to shuck them, or even bag them. I just throw them loose in the shopping cart. I always assumed it is because I am lazy and am a procrastinator. I figure I'll deal with the corn at home before I microwave it. Yes it does put me in charge of getting rid of the husks but why do work today you can put off til tomorrow?

I put in shucking corn at the grocery store in Google and came across a variety of comments. Most people seem to think it's a bad idea because shucked corn does not stay as fresh as they do in nature's envelopes. One lady in charge of buying corn for a large family admitted it makes things easier to keep clean in the kitchen without all the corn husks and corn silk that gets into everything.

I guess I'll now continue to shuck corn at home. Like the hipsters.

Two summer time books

Since I haven't blogged in a while I thought I would write about two books I recently finished. Both library books and both touch on the topics of adults in love with teenagers. In the Edith Wharton book, the Children, the affair is never consummated while in the Zoe Heller book (above)  the affair is more than consummated. Both books are products of their times, I suppose.

The Children describes a sub group called "hotel children" that apparently existed previous to WW2 where children would wander around in hotels as their parents and step-parents sauntered from fashionable resort to fashionable resort. This during an era when the children of the rich did not have to go to school but, perhaps with the aid of a tutor, wander the earth until they had the opportunity to marry, presumably to marry well. Today even the most idle of the rich send their children to schools. I guess it is the post WW2 obsession with education, at least in the West.

The protagonist, Martin, unknowingly falls in love with a fifteen year old, even though he is betrothed to someone of his own age and class. This is a fun book, and like most Edith Wharton, is a pleasurable read.

The next book, Notes on a Scandal is great fun. The author's voice is herself somewhat eccentric, which adds to the intrigue as the hint of lesbos appears. Apparently she is  bored with the people at work whom she has known for years, and becomes fascinated when a new, exciting female school teacher enters the faculty. She vies for attention with this new novelty in the form of an attractive crafts teacher. The teacher, however, is more interested in the novelty of a fifteen year old boy.

The weird thing about the story is that the school teacher is presented as a likeable character, even if she is going against the "thou shalt not sleep with thy students" taboo. Martin is also likeable, the way indecisive people can be.

So why are cherries so cheap

I was in my favorite place outside of work, the supermarket, and I noticed a man was putting bags of cherries on a display case.  The posted price was $1.99. I assumed it was per pound but upon closer inspection I saw it was per bag. And the bags were big, so big you couldn't close them. I went home and ate a few. Delicious, yes they had pits but still they were the best cherries I ever et. I had so many I brought some of them to the office just to get rid of them.

They were Washington state cherries. Why, I thought, would people ship cherries cross country to New Jersey to sell at such a cheap price? Curiosity reared its head. I found on Google a news story that perhaps explains the mystery. China is normally the main purchaser of Washington cherries but they are putting tariffs on American cherries. So I guess they are forced to sell them domestically, even to markets three thousand miles away.

Political decisions do affect our lives. Even the price of cherries at the store. A little lesson in macroeconomics. 

Smart ass reply

When I was in Boy Scouts at Camp No-Be-Bosco there was a "trading post" where among other things they had postcards you could send with pre written replies. The replies only had to be checked off. "Having a swell time", or "Learning to swim" or "I have poison sumac", or "Send money". For the lazy Scout they were very handy ways to communicate with Ma and Pa back home.

Yesterday I got an email from someone who was indisposed and subsequently was unable to attend a planned evening of debauchery. When I was writing my reply I noticed I had instant replies that I only had to check. The options were "so sorry to hear that, hope you are feeling better", "so sorry to hear your dog died", and  "Got it, the check is in the mail."

I feel like I'm back at summer camp. I'd like to add some additional pre written replies. "Yeah, right", or perhaps "Give me a break", or "So's your uncle". At least then I would feel like I was back at college.

Editor's note: Above is a camp trading post. A little bit larger than the one at olde No-be.

My retirement

People often ask me what I will do with myself after I retire. I am now telling people I'm going to write a book. Well, I hope to assemble my better blogs, edit it a bit and compile it on a Kindle book. I also would like to travel, see Mount Rushmore and be a Census taker in 2020.

The truth of the matter is I will spend most of my retirement going to the doctor's office. Then he/she will give me homework.  I will get stress tests, blood work, calcium tests, etc. between doctor's appointments. As I get older I will go to physical therapy. I will spend most of my retirement, as my father said, "horsing around with those darn old doctors".

I have learned the secret of blood tests. A week before your test, stop drinking, eating sweets, eating red meats, salami, sausage and start exercising. The day after your blood test you can drink whiskey, eat eggs, bacon, ice cream and have a swell time. Your blood tests will be inconclusive, ie. a gentleman's C. The secret to a happy retirement.

Trade wars with Europe

In return for the U.S. imposing tariffs on steel, the E.U. announced today that they are imposing tariffs on motorcycles, blue jeans, orange juice and bourbon.

One of the comforting things about sitting at a bar in Europe is looking at the liquors and being reassured by the presence of Jack Daniels, Jim Beam and George Dickel. It gives you a pride in being American, knowing that even in the sophisticated space of a Spanish or Italian bar, people recognize my countrymen for their skill at distilling.

Then you meander out into the streets and are almost run over by a Harley Davidson. You swell with the pride of your country and its motorcycles.

Now, thanks to trade wars it may be harder to find these things in Europe. Now Europe and Canada are our enemies. It wasn't too long ago that our enemies were North Korea and Russia. Now they are our great friends. It's hard keeping up in these modern times.