Big Brother Is Watching

Several items in the media made me realize that Big Brother may be watching us a lot more than we realize. Some of this spying can be helpful, but other applications send a frisson of fear up my spine.

The first report that caught my attention was something I saw in the Daily Skimm, a cleverly written email summary of sometimes arcane news items. There’s now a smart mattress that can tell you if there’s been “activity” on it. At first I thought this was another aspect of the Fitbit craze, to help you figure out how many calories you burned during—um—your sleep activity. As a service to my readers, I did some on-line sleuthing to learn more about this slumber wonder.

It’s made by Durmet, a Spanish company, and it sends an audio alert whenever it’s “in use.” What’s more, it can tell the “duration, intensity and impact per minute” of that usage. The matt-app allows you to trigger certain music when a horizontal mambo is detected. One song that immediately comes to mind is Lay, Lady, Lay, but Tears On My Pillow might be more appropriate if there’s a cheating spouse involved.

A few days after I read about the mattress, the New York Times had a piece on being able to tell whether or not your dog was walked. That tool uses GPS to see where the pet has been. It seems to me that puddles of pee and piles of poop on your rugs would be a more immediate way of knowing if the walker has been ripping you off.

This reminded me of another GPS-based app that I found useful when I was consulting for Brown Development. At the end of the day I would take the Brown shuttle from the building where I worked to the main campus up the hill. Then I’d walk home the remaining mile, usually stopping to see my husband at his store on my way. The shuttle provided on-line updates of where it was along the route. When it was running late, I could keep working at my desk and still catch it without having to wait in the cold.

I think I also read that there are companies that can tell you the location of the pizza you ordered for delivery. Or maybe I just imagined that one. It makes sense, after all. If you think about it, there are quite a few ways that Big Brother could use this type of remote sensing technology. Let’s explore a few of them.

Your dentist could catch you lying about your oral hygiene if the free brush he gave you at your last visit had an app like this embedded. Disproving your flossing would be more of a challenge, and it’s the flossing that really helps keep your gums healthy. I’ll let the scientists among you keep working on that one.

Similar technology could monitor whether or not I really practiced the saxophone when I claimed I had. Maybe it could also produce an audio-graph that would provide clues to what songs I’d played. I’m not sure who would care about this, and frankly, there’s another way to know if I’d been playing. Just see if the cat is hiding under the bed; she’s not a fan of my music.

Speaking of cats and dogs, by putting sensors in their custom brushes, you’d be able to tell how long the salon spent grooming them. In our home, we can judge that by how much of their hair is standing on end from static electricity.

A real Big Brother application would rig the freezer door to tell when it’s been opened and for how long. I’d have a hard time lying about those midnight raids for ice cream. That might be even more effective than a food journal in reducing my caloric intake.

I think the most creative use is something that will put the fear of God in my Catholic readers. Or more accurately, the fear of their parish priests. The same electronics that report what’s going on with the smart mattresses could be embedded in rosary beads. The penance the priest doles out in the confessional would require you to use your beads. If you don’t work your way through the prayers as prescribed, your sins won’t be forgiven. It certainly adds a new dimension to “a good act of contrition.”

I’ve just scratched the surface here. You no doubt have many ideas of your own. Maybe I’m a romantic, but I’m confident our apps would find larger markets than that smart mattress.

Nostalgic Reflections—Demure Edition

Last week’s post on nostalgic reflections was—how shall I put it?—a tad risqué. I’m following up this week with more demure reflections. My husband scored just 45 (out of 90) last week; my sister knew only two items. This week’s quiz gives everyone a chance to redeem themselves. The questions are multiple choice and there may be more than one correct answer for each one. Every correct reply (including lucky guesses) nets you 10 points. Hint: maximum is 120. Answers are again at the end.

By now, you all should know that I played alto sax in school. What other musical instrument(s) did I play in the high school band?

1.     Clarinet

2.     Flute

3.     Glockenspiel

4.     Oboe

5.     Tenor Sax

What foreign language(s) did I study in high school?

1.     French

2.     German

3.     Italian

4.     Latin

5.     Spanish

What bone(s) did I break when I was in school?

1.     Arm

2.     Finger

3.     Foot

4.     Nose

5.     Rib

My Freshmen dorm mates in college called me The Lady in Red. Why?

1.     I wore red sneakers.

2.     I had a red raincoat.

3.     I wore red Dr. Denton-type footed pajamas.

4.     I had a red bedspread and curtains in my room.

5.     I frequently wore a red scarf around my neck.

What sport(s) did I compete in during college?

1.     Archery

2.     Fencing

3.     Field Hockey

4.     Sailing

5.     Skiing

What skill(s) was I never able to master?

1.     Bowling

2.     Knitting

3.     Ping Pong

4.     Touch Typing

5.     Whistling

Answers and Explanations

Other musical instrument(s)? Oboe.

My classmate was a fabulous alto sax player, so there was no way I’d ever get to first chair. I decided to try oboe since the oboist was two years ahead of me. I couldn’t master the double reed, so I settled in as second chair alto sax.

Foreign language(s)? French (2 years), German (1 year) and Latin (3 years).

My brother and I studied Spanish one evening a week in New York City in the seventies. Learning Italian is on my to-do list.

Broken bone(s)? Arm and nose.

I broke my arm twice. Once was by falling off a swing around age 6 and once was ice skating during high school. I also broke my nose water skiing during high school. I broke my foot twice, and my rib once, all after age forty.

Why The Lady in Red? Red bedspread and curtains, which my mother made for me as a birthday present my first year in college.

I did have red sneakers, but those were during high school. I was wearing them in my too-large ice skates when I fell and broke my arm. I had a cute raincoat with mushrooms printed on it, but never a red one. The red Doctor Denton-type pajamas were purchased after college. My trademark neck scarves (in a multitude of colors and prints) also came much later.

Sport(s) Competed In College? Archery, Fencing and Sailing

This was tricky. I competed in archery just once, as a favor to the phys ed teacher. One of the other students was an excellent archer and had a chance for an individual medal. They were short one person to field a team, so I participated to help out. Fencing was also sketchy. I was the only female student fencer. I practiced with that same phys ed teacher and went to just one meet each of my first two years. Sailing was a team sport and I competed throughout the season my freshman year.

I was excused from field hockey my senior year in high school because of my broken nose; I never went back to it in college. And skiing? LOL.

Skill(s) That Escaped Me? Bowling and whistling

I bowled once in grammar school. We were an odd number of kids, so my best friend and I bowled every other frame. I managed five gutter balls and one pin before my friend finished the match for both of us. Try as I might, I’ve never been able to whistle.

I taught myself knitting and made sweaters for two boy friends. I had trophies for ping pong, which is amazing considering I later learned that I have no depth perception. My father made me take typing in high school. He said there was no way he was going to pay to have my term papers typed in college.

Give yourself 10 points for each correct answer. Remember: the maximum score this week is 120. If you scored seventy or above, good job. Ninety or above, congratulations! You’ve qualified as an expert. Now go celebrate with a nice glass of wine.

Nostalgic Reflections—Getting To Know Me

Something I heard last week sent me into flashback mode. It brought to mind words people used to describe me years ago. I realized most folks who know me today would never guess that the phrase referred to me, which in turn led me to create a quiz based on my nostalgic reflections.

Think of this exercise as a way to get to know me. If you like the game, feel free to use it with your friends and family to learn about each other. Answers (True or False unless otherwise noted) and amplifications are provided at the end of this post. Apologies in advance if any of it grosses you out.

Things People Used To Say About Me

1.     She probably sleeps with a coding manual under her pillow.

2.     Her normal expression is half way between neutral and negative.

3.     I bet she’s really a blonde and dyes her hair brown to look smarter.

4.     Ask her what time it is and she’ll tell you how a watch is made.

5.     She has brass __________. (Fill in the blank.)

Things I Did On A Dare As A Kid

1.     Tackled and kissed a boy on the school bus.

2.     Ate a freeze-dried worm.

3.     Pooped in the woods.

4.     Stole a tube of Tangee orange lipstick from F. W. Woolworth’s.

5.     Rode my sled down the steep “boys’” hill.

Nicknames People Had For Me Over The Years

1.     Bugle Butt

2.     Elaine the Pain

3.     Imelda Decker

4.     Sax Kitten

5.     Suzy Potts

Answers and Amplifications

Things People Used To Say About Me

1.     Sleeps with coding manual… True. My first career was in computer programming and systems, and my colleagues acknowledged that I was damn good at it.

2.     Expression between neutral and negative… True. I was extremely focused and serious. This trait kept me from being mugged on my daily walk from the Port Authority to Colgate Palmolive and back.

3.     Really a blonde… False. I’ve never been accused of trying to look smarter. In fact, I tried bleaching my hair with peroxide when I was in seventh grade.

4.     Ask what time and get a watch… True. My colleagues thought I answered everything in too much detail.

5.     Brass __________. Balls. Could there be any other answer?

Things I Did On A Dare As A Kid (Can you tell I was a tomboy?)

1.     Kissed boy on school bus. True. It was a wood paneled station wagon. I pinned him on the floor while I planted a wet one. There was a lot of cheering.

2.     Ate a worm. False. This is sort of a trick question. While I didn’t eat a freeze-dried worm, I did eat a fried grasshopper on a dare. It wasn’t all that bad.

3.     Pooped in woods. True. It was a struggle; I couldn’t even fart on cue, but I was determined to win the dare.

4.     Stole lipstick… False. Orange Tangee was my color, but I didn’t steal a tube. Weekly confession was an effective deterrent.

5.     Sledded down the “boys’” hill… True. I crashed into bramble bushes and cut my wrist on the runner. (Defective steering mechanism.) But I earned kudos from the boys—the same ones who dared me to kiss on the bus and poop in the woods.

Nicknames People Had For Me Over The Years

1.     Bugle Butt. True. This was given by one of my college boyfriends and whatever you’re thinking is probably correct. He had an odd skill: he could play the trumpet using just his mouth. I told myself that explained his affection for brass wind instruments. If only we had Sir Mix-A-Lot in the sixties. “I like big butts and I can not lie.”

2.     Elaine the Pain. True. No explanation needed.

3.     Imelda Decker. True. I had about 50 pairs of shoes. One lunch break I bought five pairs at Saks Fifth Avenue (just a block from Colgate Palmolive). I got two each of two styles of Mary Jane heels, in four luscious colors. The fifth pair was navy T-straps. Imelda Marcos had nothing on me.

4.     Sax Kitten. False. I played alto sax in high school, and there were jokes about sax appeal, but never a nickname.

5.     Suzy Potts. True. My parents called me that. At least, I thought they did. Turns out they were saying “you’re crazy” in the Italian dialect of my mother’s family. I misunderstood and they let me think it was a term of endearment. I signed cards to them “Love, Suzy Potts” even after I learned the truth.

Give yourself 5 points for each correct answer. If you scored over 55, you’re a good friend. Seventy or above makes me suspicious that you skipped to the end.

Election Alphabet

The primaries leading up to the Presidential election this Fall have created a new lexicon of media vocabulary. See how many words and phrases in my Election Alphabet you’ve heard or read during the campaigns. Don’t be surprised to see a second edition of this at year-end.

A You’re no longer adorable; you’re abhorrent, especially if you’re Trump’s policy about banning Muslims from entering the U.S.

B Bombastic, a bully, a bigot and a blowhard. Only one candidate has earned all these monikers.

C A carpet bomb is not an ugly rug made in the Middle East. Like Raid, it involves an aerial assault to eradicate vermin at ground level.

D Is for divisive and disgusting, the former frequently used to describe Trump’s rhetoric, and the latter being his go-to word for anything his rivals do or say to offend him. But my favorite election d-word is demagogue. That’s because it transforms so easily into demigod, which has me picturing Trump grunting: “Me God, You Jane.”

E Candidates positions evolve during a campaign. Evolution is how one candidate tries to out-flank his or her opponents. Often the state holding the next primary is a deciding factor in how much a candidate evolves. And in which direction.

F Fingers are the new measure of someone’s manhood. In my salad days it was feet. I suppose it’s good to know what our candidates’ hands are up to.

G Pay attention to what’s happening at the grass roots level and to the ground game. Do not confuse these with gray roots or ground hogs. Or Colorado’s grass game.

H Two of Trump’s favorite words—huge to describe everything he’s going to do (and his fingers, apparently) and horrible to characterize his opponents.

I More monikers for you-know-who. Irrational, ill-informed, irascible and irritating.

J Is for Japan. See Nuclear Triad (Donald Trump’s).

K Kerfuffle describes a back-and-forth between candidates that’s reported in the media. Both parties fuel kerfuffles, especially during political talk shows.

L Labels Trump uses for his opponents—low-energy (originally stuck on Jeb Bush, now transferred to Hillary) and liar, liar, pants on fire (slapped onto Lyin’ Ted Cruz).

M A movement to engage first time voters, such as Bernie’s Democratic Socialism and Trump’s White Supremacy.

N Nuclear triad—land, sea and air; or in Trump’s case—North Korea, South Korea and Japan.

O A trio—obfuscating, obstructionist and outsider—that describes a number of candidates. “Outsider” is supposed to be a badge of honor. The question is whose chest it truly belongs on.

P Some pairings. Polls and primaries, in which the former seldom predict the results in the latter. Also persona and presidential, meaning Trump’s primary shenanigans are simply a persona he took on to fire up supporters. He assures us that when he’s elected, he’ll be more presidential than anybody.

Q The early Republican debates were quarrelsome, querulous and quirky.

R Is for Rat-f—ker, a peculiar descriptive employed by Ted Cruz. It was intended to explain what he’d rather do with a rodent than with Donald Trump. Wasn’t “none of the above” one of the choices?

S Stands for sycophants and suck-ups, two ways to portray the same people. They make up that concrete floor of Trump supporters.

T Has to be Twitter, Trump’s main form of communication with his sycophants and suck-ups. His tweets may set the Twittersphere on fire, but 70% of women say he doesn’t light theirs.

U Uninformed is what Trump is on foreign policy (see his nuclear triad). Don’t panic. He’ll be OK if you give him an earbug with Hillary on the other end.

V Trump’s tweets go viral. This is not the same as virile. Someone please tell Donald.

W Walk-back—the latest way to describe a candidate’s change in position on an issue, because “evolve” doesn’t always cover it. Trump walked back his stance on punishment for illegal abortions several times. I can’t leave the letter W without mentioning wives. Trump and Cruz got into a kerfuffle over whose wife made prettier arm candy. I suppose that’s better than arguing over whose hands are bigger.

X No, a xenophobe is not a musical instrument. The hatred of foreigners strikes a sour note, even when it’s masquerading as nationalism in the Republican primary.

Y Yuge is the phonetic spelling of Trump’s favorite word to describe his accomplishments (and probably his hands). A Yugo, on the other hand, is a defunct car. The Yugo was not yuge and was the butt of many jokes. Draw your own conclusions.

Z Zero is the chance of election vocabulary becoming civilized any time soon.

Hoarding vs. Collecting

A recent local news item reported on an elderly man who perished in a fire in his home. Firefighters had difficulty controlling the blaze because the man was a serious hoarder. The house was filled with papers and other combustible material. He also had a gunshot wound, but there was no follow up on how that might have been a factor in his demise.

As I listened to this story, I glanced around our family room and wondered: How do you know whether what you’re doing has jumped the shark from being just “collecting” to being “hoarding?” My husband has stacks of papers, catalogs, direct mail fliers, and books he has either been given or has purchased (sometimes from offers in those fliers). He would probably never throw any of this out if I didn’t nag him about it periodically. (Pun intended.)

I’ve always been a collector. I don’t think I’m a hoarder, but I’m not yet in my eighties. Is hoarding lurking in my future? One of my earliest blog posts dealt with my collecting habits. “I always felt that one of something was lonely and needed a friend. Once I made the pair, I was sunk. Because whenever I came across another related item, I was compelled to bring it home to introduce it to the others.”

I was forced to jettison some things when we downsized, but visitors to our condo who never saw our house in Providence would find that hard to believe. I’ve come up with various ways to display my collections that should dissuade anyone from calling them hoarding. For instance, I’ve arranged my antique evening bags (13) and gloves (11) in four shadow boxes. Scattered among them are old compacts (8), buttons (8) and circle pins (9), thus making these boxes objets d’art hanging on the living room wall.

I still fall victim to the urge to begin new collections. When I started playing the saxophone again, I decided to get some Christmas ornaments of figurines playing saxes. That evolved into cats playing them even though they weren’t suitable to hang on a tree. After the holiday, I expanded my search techniques and stumbled across clowns playing them, too. I also discovered that some sellers misspell the instrument as “saxaphone,” which doubled the number of searches I made.

Two months and many EBay surfing hours later, I have: 3 cats playing sax (Felix is earmarked as a Christmas gift for my instructor); a tiger, an alligator and a sheep all also playing the horn; a clown playing sax and one with a concertina (they were sold as a pair); and cats playing bass fiddle and drum—too cute to pass up, even though there was no sax player in the group. Besides, I’m now jamming in a small combo, so why shouldn’t I celebrate that?

I had to move my collection of miniature teacups and saucers from the display shelves to make room for the band menagerie. They’ll still require dusting in their new locations, so I plan to sell them on EBay. Since that money will wind up in my PayPal account, I’ll probably use it to buy more must-have finds for my musical menagerie. Note to self: look for animal piano player.

As I write this, it’s evident that there are some gray areas in my defense of my collecting addiction. And yes, I just used the word “addiction.” I admit that a collecting addiction is probably just a few glasses of wine away from a hoarding disorder. NBC had a feature this week on the “Sip and Click” phenomenon. It’s the habit people have of coming home after a late evening of drinking with friends, logging on to their computers and buying all sorts of things they don’t need and wouldn’t buy if sober.

I’m not in danger of that happening, but there’s one hoarding habit for which I’m probably at risk. That’s becoming a Crazy Cat Lady. We recently adopted a senior cat from a local rescue shelter. We had picked out a senior brother for her, but he has developed health issues that could be too serious for him to be adoptable. If he recovers, we’re definitely taking him, but it could be weeks before that’s resolved.

In meantime, our new girl is in need of some company (besides me). That could mean we’d be back to three cats at some point, which is where we were when we had Pansy, Lily and Luke. I look at the shelter’s website every day to see who else has shown up. “Oooh! That one’s so cute. But she’s too young. I want an older cat.” Lord help me if they ever get several seniors surrendered at once.