PUSH BACK

The definition for assertive is: “Having to show confidence and a forceful personality.” However in life, I sometimes have had to fake it. I have found that the older I get the more some people think that I am a push-over. Oh, have they got it wrong!

I do pick my battles carefully—I always did.  I try to listen and respect the opinions of others, and I do believe in problem solving  and  compromise, when possible. Also, I never shout at people giving them an excuse to yell back, because that’s being aggressive ( a whole other bag of worms.)

Once a year, I have an important examination of my eyes by a Retina Specialist.  He is in great demand thus the appointments have to be made a year in advance (unless a problem arises). Invariably, six months down the road, after I have made my appointment, I will receive a phone call that my appointment date has to be changed.  No problem!  And, YES! it happened again.
Consequently, I received a confirmation—-by computer, by text and by a phone call—of the date and time of my appointment. I answered them all. And, I printed out the computer information. I always print out important stuff (killing many trees.)

On the day of my appointment, I arrived first thing in the morning, and the receptionist informed me, “You don’t have an appointment in this office. The doctor is at his other office on the other side of town. I will have to re-schedule you.” I looked at her, and said, “No you won’t.  I’m not going anywhere, and I am keeping my appointment that you already re-scheduled once.”

She finally, looked up from her computer, gave me that, “You are a  Senile Old Broad look,” and slowly said, “But the doctor’s not here.” I gave her the print-out of my scheduled appointment at the present location,  and equally slowly said, “You changed my original appointment and gave me this one—at this location.This is a big practice. The mistake wasn’t mine.  Surely, there’s another specialist who can examine my eyes.” She said, “Well, Dr. So and So is in but he has a full schedule.” I replied, “Please, go tell him what happened, and ask him if he can work me in. I brought a good book and can wait all day.”

Morosely, she left her desk. After a few minutes she returned, and cheerfully chirped, “The Doctor will see you in 10 minutes.”  And he did! He was my doctor’s associate and gave me the whole enchilada exam.  All is well, and I made an appointment for next year, at the same time and at the same location, with my absentee doctor.  

When I left the office, the chagrinned receptionist looked 10 inches shorter than when I had arrived.

Sometimes, it pays to push back, and not take “No” for an answer.  However, if someone does say, “No,” I suggest that you politely say, “I understand that’s your answer. Now who can I talk to?”

Esther Blumenfeld

CLUCK--CLUCK

A chicken walks into a bar and hops onto a bar stool. The bartender says, “Wow!  That is amazing.” Then, the chicken orders a beer.  Incredulous, the bartender says, “You should be in the circus!” “Why?” answers the chicken. “Do they need an engineer?” Old joke.

If the bartender had been smart, he would have asked,”Do you want an egg in your beer?” Obviously this was a special chicken. These days that might make sense, since suddenly, chicken eggs cost as much as $8.00 a dozen and the cost keeps going up. Granted, that’s not as much as the cost of a Faberge’ Egg, which at the Faberge’ Museum in St. Petersburg, (Russia not Florida) can cost as much as $300 thousand to $33 million dollars, and you can only look at it.

I recently bought a dozen eggs for $6.95 (a bargain). When it was time for breakfast,  I had a taste for  scrambled eggs. When I cracked the first shell, to my surprise, an egg with two yolks  slid out of the shell, and into the bowl. I then cracked a second shell, and— “Lo and Behold”—two yolks slid out of that one too. Before scrambling them, I ran to my computer to ask Dr. Google if double yolked eggs are safe to eat. Then I discovered that not only are twin yolks safe, but a rare phenomenon that occurs roughly in one out of every 1000 eggs. “The odds of discovering an egg with a double yolk are about the same as the odds of catching a foul ball at a baseball game.”

The next day, I cracked two more shells and found that they also had double yolks. There are many superstitions about double yolked  eggs, but I will adopt the one that says that my $6.95 eggs will bring me good luck. So far, I haven’t burnt the toast, so that puts me way ahead in the good luck department.

So, okay, why are eggs, double yolked or not, so expensive? Sadly, its due to an outbreak of Avian Flu that requires farmers to destroy whole flocks, even if just one hen tests positive. Also, a ban on selling eggs from traditionally caged hens will exacerbate the situation. In my state (Arizona) regulations took effect on January 1, 2023 that, in the name of humane treatment, egg laying hens have to be kept in cages with at least a square foot of usable floor space. Until now, hens were crammed into cages much smaller than that. Also, in 2025 all major producers must go cage free. So depending on how many eggs you eat, the cost of a single egg could go up as much as a cost of a single shrimp. Some other states are also joining Arizona’s lead.

Some companies such as Costco and McDonalds have begun to demand cage free eggs, and some big producers such as Hickmans may be egged on to walk on egg shells, and go along if they don’t want egg on their face— and prices will invariably go up. Consequently, when you go to the market, you may discover that a broasted chicken is cheaper than purchasing a dozen eggs.

Perhaps, we will finally discover the answer to the age-old conundrum:

“What comes first—the Chicken or the Egg?”

Esther Blumenfel

GOOD NIGHT--SWEET DREAMS

Sigmund Freud in,“Interpretation of Dreams,” wrote that dreams are “disguised fulfillments of repressed wishes,” and his theory contributed to the rise of dream interpretation. Scientists do know that just about everyone dreams every time they sleep, whether they remember it or not, but the bottom line is that while there are many theories, there has been no single consensus on why we dream.

According to Kendra Cherry in “Verywell Mind,” researchers have found that the nine most common dreams involve: 1. Dreams about falling, 2. Dreams about being naked in public,
3. Dreams about being chased, 4. Dreams about losing teeth, 5. Dreams about dying,
6. Dreams about taking a test, 7. Dreams about infidelity, 8. Dreams about flying, 9.Dreams about pregnancy (not necessarily in that order.)  There are lots of dream interpretation books, but some modern theories suggest that dreams may have a biological component such as sleep position.  

All I know is that I rarely remember my dreams, but when I do they don’t seem to fit into any category. For instance, I have an artist friend who has beautiful dreams in color. When I was a deadline writer, she would describe these beautiful panoramic dreams, while all I remembered was dreaming words in black and white going through my brain on a stock market ticker tape.  All night, words were passing through my mind, and NO! I never recalled any of them.

However, this morning, I woke up and my dream was so vivid that I remembered all of it, and maybe I have discovered a new category for analysis. What do you think?  Here it is:

I’m backstage waiting to give a speech. The audience are getting settled into their seats. I begin to  pull my speech notes out of my briefcase, and find that my notes are out of order as I pull out various Bloody Mary drink recipes,  which are interspersed with my notes and blank plastic sheets. I proceed to put my speech into order while throwing Bloody Mary recipes and plastic sheets onto the floor.

In the meantime, a woman, in charge of the event, goes to the microphone on the stage, but there is no sound. She calls out to the sound technician to fix the problem, and he shouts out that he is a member of the union, and is allowed a break. Finally, she threatens him with her umbrella, and he goes to the stage and fixes the mic.

The audience is grumbling. I go to the stage, and they give me a smattering of applause.  I begin my talk by giving them a recipe for making Bloody Marys.  THEN I WOKE UP.

I don’t know why I had this dream. I don’t know why I so vividly remember it. I wasn’t falling. I wasn’t naked, No one was chasing me, I had all of my teeth, I certainly wasn’t dying or taking a test, and I was neither flying  nor pregnant.  I wasn’t even upset during the dream or after I woke up—-and I slept like a log.

And, to top it off—I don’t even have a repressed wish to drink a Bloody Mary. Oh, Sigmund, where are you when I need you?

Esther Blumenfeld

DOLLARS FOR DIGITS

It takes our brains 80 milliseconds to process information. That means we are all living a little bit in the past---probably some of us more than others. So, before my brain turns to mush, I decided to learn something about “Bitcoin,” the digital currency introduced in 2009 by a developer whom nobody knows, because he goes under the pseudonym, ”Satoshi Nakamoto.”

Bitcoin is a peer to peer, math-based digital currency, or for those of you purists, “cryptocurrency.” Peer-to-peer means nerd-to-nerd. These digital coins go person to person via the Internet---an electronic made-up cash system on a computer server.  It allows people to buy all kinds of bad stuff, because it promises anonymity. In 2013 the FBI closed down a server called, ”Silk Road” which specialized in illegal drugs. Stay with me, it gets better. Even my spell-check never heard of bitcoins.

However, since transaction fees are lower than the 2 or 3% imposed by credit card processors, bitcoins are increasingly used as payment for legitimate services or products. Sometimes called, “Blockchain,” a public transaction ledger keeps track of who owns bitcoins, how many transactions are out there, and prevents double spending. People who use their computers to maintain the blockchain are called, “Miners,” but we don’t know who they are. My spell check never heard of blockchain either.

If by now, you want to trade in bitcoin, you will need a virtual wallet---where else would you store invisible tender? Wallets come in apps for mobile devices and computers, hardware devices and paper coins. Paper! Now, that I get! To trade bitcoins you do it on a public key, but a private key address will keep your bitcoins safe---unless your secret code gets out. Then your bitcoins can be cyber-stolen.

Here are some reasons I won’t buy bitcoins:

I’m not a nerd.

I like my greenbacks and transactions to be backed by the U.S. Government, because we have a very big military, with very big guns, that will back up my very hard earned dollars.

I don’t hoard canned goods, or speculate on how many times my neighbor’s dogs will poop on my sidewalk. Why would I hoard bitcoins on the speculation that they will go up in value? Yes, they have, and they have also tanked. There have been large swings in value. One such value collapse happened when people panicked, sold their invisible bitcoins, and froze a trade engine.

Countries with troubled national currencies such as Argentina and Iran have used bitcoins. The People’s Bank of China has recently ordered their banks not to use them as “legal tender.” They can’t breathe without coughing in China, but they know about coughing up money.

There are only 12 million bitcoins, and I think there is a programmed limit to how many will be created. Don’t know who programmed that, because everyone seems to be called by the name, “Anonymous.”

So now you know as much as I do about bitcoin. To sum it up:

Unknown, unaccountable, anonymous people wrote a computer code for imaginary, untraceable currency that exists in cyberspace and Dodos are investing real money in it.

Esther Blumenfeld (“It’s gold for nerds.”) Stephen Colbert

FOR THE LOVE OF BOOKS

When my parents moved from their home in Indiana to Florida, I asked my Father, “Dad is it hard for you to move to a new place?” He said, “Not as long as I have my books.  My books are my portable homeland.”  I am, admittedly, the proud daughter of a bibliophile, and my love of books runs deep.

When I was a very little girl, my Father read stories to me from Bulfinch’s Mythology. I found the Gods and Goddesses from Greek and Roman mythology more challenging than the happy-ending tales of the Brother’s Grimm. Even to this day, I think of Pandora opening the box left in her care—releasing all the evils into the world—except HOPE. The tale still speaks to me as does the flight of Icarus, who flew with wings made of wax and feathers. He was warned not to fly too close to the sun, but in defiance of limited tactics he flew too close. The wings melted and he fell to his death. Today, we are trying to harness the sun’s energy, but still do not dare to venture too close. And, then, there was poor Sisyphus, the hero of the absurd, who rolled his rock up a high hill. As soon as he neared the top, the rock rolled down again, and he was doomed to begin again—a message that absolute knowledge is impossible—even with our smart and getting  smarter computers.

I know that lots of people like book tablets, but I still prefer books made of paper. I like the tactile sense of touching a book and turning the pages. The advantage is that there is no glare, and your book won’t be stolen if left on the beach, and “real” books never die because they don’t need batteries.

Among my many strange quirks, I will add that I am not fond of Book Clubs. It’s not that I don’t like the club members, it’s that I don’t want them to choose my reading material, nor, in all respect, do I want to know what they think of the book.  If I like it..I like it!  If I don’t like it..I don’t like it!  And, often some members primarily read wine.

I also hesitate to lend books to anyone, because “everything comes to him that waits, except loaned books.” My husband, Warren cherished his copy of the script of the movie “Casablanca.” His best friend, George coveted that book. Consequently, after a visit from George “Casablanca” went missing. When we visited George and his wife in Princeton, NJ, Warren would surreptitiously “borrow” his book back. Happily, we visited back and forth often, so the book was well traveled.

When I was a toddler in Germany, the Nazis burned prayer books and other books they didn’t like. Today, in 2023, banning books has become a popular past time in libraries—even books authored by Pulitzer Prize, and Noble Prize winning authors. The only good thing from this activity is that you can be assured that the sales of a book will go up if a teenager is forbidden to read it.

My son, Josh became a bibliophile at a very early age. If I ever wanted to buy him a children’s book stamped with a  Newberry Award medal, he’d say, “Mommy, I don’t want that one. I want books with facts!” To this day, you’d definitely want him on your Trivia Team. I learned not to futz around with fiction with this kid. When he was three years old I read him the story of Babar and he learned that the King of the Elephants died eating a bad mushroom. Being a “fact” guy he refused to eat mushrooms. Then, a week later, when we went to a fancy party, and the filet-mignons had big mushrooms on top, he ran around the room yelling “Poison! Poison!” which didn’t sit well with the host and hostess. However, when he was an actor in New York, he did play fictional characters on the stage. That was as fictional as he ever got.

Later in life, when I wrote my books, I never claimed that they had any redeeming quality except fun and laughs. However, I did know they were a success because librarians all over the country complained that people stole my books out the their libraries.  My claim to fame came when a woman, who stood in line at one of my book signings told me not to add a comment. She  said,  “Just sign your name.  It will be worth more when you are dead.” I have a friend who kept my books in her guest bathroom. She complained,”People sit in there laughing and won’t come out!” That’s when my brother, David gave me the moniker, “The Queen of Toilet Literature.”

As I end this love story, remember what Groucho Marx said, “Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.”

Esther Blumenfeld