Back In School

You’re never too old to learn — as my grandson pointed out to me the other day. He was explaining to me that three times 20 is 60, to which I agreed. But my agreement was not enough, he wanted to make sure that I actually understood WHY it was so. Now, keep in mind this is coming from a five-year-old so the logic may be a little convoluted.

He said, “If you have twenty and you add another twenty that makes forty. But that’s not sixty because you only had two of them. If you add another twenty to the first twenty and the other twenty, that makes sixty because now you have three of them.”

I nodded and told him he was right.

But he wasn’t finished. “It’s like if you add one and one.”

Now I frowned. “Not quite the same.”

He kept talking as if he hadn’t heard. “If you keep doing that, you’ll get to sixty — eventually.” (That last word was added with a roll of the eyes and a bit of sarcasm).

I had to agree again. But I told him I wasn’t going to just add one number at a time all the way to sixty because that would take too long.

He looked at me as if I wasn’t quite all there. “That’s why you just add twenty three times.”

“Oh,” I said.

He seemed satisfied he’d successfully explained the math problem to me but then felt compelled to continue our “lessons.” He asked, “Do you know what half of one is?”

“Um, half?” I asked, playing along.

He looked surprised. “Yes, one half.”

I said, “So how many halves does it take to make two?”

“Grandpa, you just have to add halves until you get to two.”

“That’s true,” I said. “But how many would I have to add to get to two?”

Sighing, he said, “I think you’re going to have to study some more. But don’t worry, you’re never too old to learn.”

Well that’s good news, I thought. At least he has confidence in me. “So, you don’t think I’m too old to learn?”

He shook his head. “Remember? I just taught you how much three twenties are.”

Well, okay then. I guess it’s true; you’re never too old to learn! However, you may be too young to teach! ~

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.

Love Asylum

As you may know, we recently had a holiday. No, I’m not talking about today, which is Presidents’ Day, I’m referring to Valentine’s Day.

My wife and I attended a Valentine’s Banquet on Saturday. Not particularly surprising, I know, since we’ve been married for almost thirty-two years. What is surprising to me, is that she still claims me and is willing to attend such events — or even be seen in public  together at all. After being together this long, I’ve regrettably given her plenty of reason to not be so eager to do so.

So, there we were at the banquet, and of course, there were the typical games based on couple’s knowledge of each other. As usual, this leads to everyone talking about how long they’ve been together, or how well they know each other — or do not know each other, as the case may be. These games are certainly revealing, and quite often good for a few laughs.  

But the whole time, I’m thinking that’s not really a good measuring device for love. Not that my wife and I don’t know each other very well, we do. We can predict with nearly 100% accuracy what the other one is thinking and how we’ll respond to questions or situations. Still, that doesn’t really provide any real indication of the level of love.

A better way of measuring love is how well do couples put up with each other’s quirks and annoyances, or objectionable behaviors. Obviously, a game designed around such questions wouldn’t be nearly as fun, might cause a little trouble, or in some cases, lead to a breakup. But that illustrates my point. This would be a more accurate measurement of love. Because love isn’t all roses and hearts. Love is something more. Something deeper. Something meaningful. Love is a commitment. A “no matter what” decision.

I’m just glad my wife’s commitment means that she’ll still go out in public with me. Because I can easily see how she might be intent on having me committed! ~

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.

Should I, Or Shouldn't I?

Should I, Or Shouldn’t I?

Thought I had escaped the major effects of Old Man Winter this year. I know other places have experienced their share of the “glories” of the season, but where I live, it’s been one of the mildest winters on record. Unseasonably warm and far less snow than normal. It had me re-thinking my hostility toward my least favorite season. Until this past weekend.

We got dumped on!

It’s particularly hard to deal with a substantial amount of snowfall when the winter is so close to being over and when there’s been no bad weather thus far. On Saturday, I shoveled out the driveway and walks four times. (That’s about five too many by my count!) Every time I’d finish it was time to start again.

As I shoveled, I kept thinking how it was getting a little harder to do every year. Either I’m getting older or the snow is getting heavier. Either way, in a few short years, I’ll be unable to keep up. Especially if we have a bad winter instead of the half way mild one we’re currently living through. But I have a plan.

No, the plan does not involve moving south. While the warmer weather may be enticing, moving is not really an option — I like living here. It’s home. And I’m not going to let winter weather drive me out of my home. And even if I did, knowing my luck, winter would just tag along. So that’s definitely out. Besides, a move would be very expensive and the plan I have in mind will cost only a fraction of that.

Neither does the plan involve hiring someone to do the shoveling for me. I try not to hire anything done because it’s usually not done right and I end up having to fix it. And that’s kind of annoying. Besides, hiring someone would be very expensive, and the plan I have in mind is far cheaper.

I suppose one possibility would be just to do nothing and let the snow pile up. But that would lead to a plethora of other issues that I don’t need to deal with. Besides, being trapped at home all winter might not be good for the bank account, and the plan I have in mind is not that hard on the wallet.

So, I’ll just stick to my plan. And I thank you for your patience as I rationalized and justified the expense of purchasing a snow blower! ~

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.

Eating Crow?

I learned something this past week—about sharing. I thought I knew what sharing was all about but apparently I was wrong.

My wife and I were sitting on a patio enjoying a bag of Peanut M&M’s—the “sharing size.” As the bag says, we were SHARING them.

After a few minutes outside, we went back in, leaving the bag of M&M’s outside. Soon afterwards, I heard a commotion outside; it sounded like it was right outside the door. I couldn’t determine what the noise was but it definitely was loud enough to warrant an investigation. Since we were several stories off the ground, there was no reason for any such noise.

Stepping out the door, I saw nothing amiss.  Figuring I was just hearing things, I went back inside. A little later, when we ventured out onto the patio again, I heard my wife say, “Is that my M&M’s?”

“Where?”

“Down there by the crow.”

I looked down to the yard and sure enough, there was a crow, busy poking his beak into our bag of M&M’s! Now I understood what all the racket had been—a crow making off with our half-full bag of candy.

Rather than try to get the bag back, I went to the store and bought another. But this time, we guarded them better. Despite what was printed on the bag we just weren’t really into sharing, not with a bird anyway.

So, here’s what I learned: apparently crows like M&M’s. A lot. They like them enough to steal them. Just thought I’d share that with you. ~

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.

Temporary Diversion

Hijacked! No, not my plane—although, I did recently have a flight. But no worries, we landed safe and sound.

The hijacking to which I refer has nothing to do with airplanes. But it’s something perhaps more critical, my computer!

It’s been quite a few years since I’ve had the displeasure of a major computer problem —a virus or anything of that nature. But then, last week my good fortune came to an end.

It seemed that no matter what I clicked on, whether online or just an icon or file on my computer, a browser opened, taking me to someplace I did not want to go; a site I did not want to visit. It didn’t happen every time but more than enough. Even once is more than enough!

I ran a scan with my anti-virus software and found nothing. It said there were no problems and my computer was safe from attack. Right! I ran a few other scans with different software and still, found nothing.

The failed scans didn’t mean I was beaten though, it just meant I couldn’t take care of the problem the easy way. One day later—yep, a full day is what I lost—my computer was up and running.

I’ll not bore you with a technical description of what it took to get rid of the problem, I’ll just say, I’m still convinced that the anti-virus companies are the ones originating and spreading computer viruses. Then, they offer the antidote—for a “small” fee of course.

In any case, I solved the problem; I hijacked the hijackers! ~

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.

Game Over? Not Quite

Back before my wife and I were married, our dates usually consisted of going out for pizza—and playing the arcade games commonly found in those establishments. She liked Ms. Pac-Man; my game was Galaga. This was in the eighties when such games were popular and new.

As teenagers with nothing else to do, we spent a lot of time playing them. And a lot of quarters too! Yeah, I know, kind of a waste of money. But it was an easy way to find entertainment. And as entertainment goes, it wasn’t really all that expensive—especially after a few months, when we got better at the games. Once we’d “mastered” them, we could spend an hour or more on just fifty cents: a quarter for her and a quarter for me. Of course, we did still have to buy a pizza, but thirty years ago, that was only about five bucks.

After we got married and life became a little busier, we never really had the time to play that much, other than when we happened to run across a Ms. Pac-Man or Galaga game somewhere. Through the years that happened less frequently as the games of our era were replaced by the “new” and “better” arcade games. As you might imagine we were less than impressed with the new games.

When our kids started getting older and things like Nintendo, Game Boy, and Play Station began showing up in our house, we were happy to see our favorite games of yesteryear had been included on many of them. But playing the games on the new consoles was just not the same. The buttons were all wrong, they were missing a joystick, and the set up was completely different from that to which we were accustomed. This all proved too adverse for us. And frustrating too, since our kids could play the games, but we could not—at least not very well.

So, for the last several years we haven’t really played much. Sure, there are still a few old style games to be found here and there but most of them are worn out. The joysticks don’t work right, the fire buttons are unreliable, and the screens are so fuzzy a guy can’t see what he’s doing. And yes, I know, new stand-up “Original” arcade style games have been available for a while—at Wal-Mart and other stores—but I wasn’t willing to spend $300, or more, to buy one. So, it looked like our Ms. Pac-Man and Galaga days were over.

But then...

After years of listening as we lamented the passing of “our” games, a month or so ago, our son showed up with two small packages: one for his Mother and one for me. We opened the packages to find a couple of mini-arcade games—Ms. Pac-Man and Galaga. They look just like the old stand-up games, complete with a joystick and the original buttons, but they’re small enough to carry around from room to room—with one hand. You can set them on a counter or table and pretend it’s the eighties! And although the screens are much smaller, the resolution and dimension ratio are true to the originals. The main difference is they don’t cost a quarter to play! Good thing, ’cause with the price of pizza these days, I can’t afford another fifty cents for games! ~

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.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

This past week, I had the privilege of doing a little work outside—repairing a fence and a few other small jobs. It wasn’t that much work actually, and took only about two and a half hours.

The temperature was barely above freezing and although I really despise the cold weather, it didn’t seem that bad outside. In fact, I even took my coat off about a half an hour into the job because I was getting a little warm. Maybe because I was working!

On my way home, I drove past some construction workers. They were all standing around, hands in their pockets, hooded sweatshirts on, and shivering—like it was cold or something.

A minute or two later, I passed some city workers. Same story. Standing there doing nothing, all bundled up and shivering.

Me, I still hadn’t put my coat back on and was driving with my window down.

I considered stopping to let them know that if they actually did some work they might not be so cold. But I figured they didn’t really care what I had to say. So, I kept driving.

But when I stopped at the gas station and the guy pumping gas asked how I could be running around with no coat and a short-sleeved shirt, I couldn’t resist.

“Been working,” I told him.

“Me too,” he said.

Well not hard enough or you wouldn’t be cold! I thought it but didn’t say it. No, not because I’m thoughtful really. I normally say whatever comes to mind. But the reason I didn’t say it is because usually I’m the guy shivering in the cold. So, I know how it feels.

At least that’s part of the reason.

The rest of the story, as Paul Harvey used to say, is because of my wife. Not that she’s a cold-blooded killer. Or cold-hearted. She just likes the temperature cold. Really cold. She’s been known to run the air conditioner in our house in December. And January. And this happens frequently! Rarely, is the temperature in my house at a livable level and I wear a coat inside nearly all winter. (In fact, I’m wearing my coat as I type this). Because apparently, my wife thinks the house should be kept suitable for a polar bear habitat.

So, I know from experience that once a guy gets cold, it’s hard to warm up. Especially if you have a wife like mine. And now that I’ve finished with this post, I’m going to go turn up the heat. ’Cause I’m cold! ~

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 Passing Fail

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything about my school days. You’d think that I would have exhausted all my stories about school by now, but no. What I have done is exhausted the supply of stories that I’m willing to divulge. But I figured if I thought hard enough, I could dredge up one that wasn’t too damaging.

And I did. Maybe.

I was in the fourth grade. My teacher, an elderly lady who should have retired long before I was in her class didn’t seem to like me much. I’m not sure why but it didn’t really matter because I didn’t like her much either. But then, none of her students did.

Which is why when I came across a copy of an upcoming test, lying there on her desk for all the world to see, I devised a little scheme. No, I didn’t take the test, didn’t even touch it. So, technically, I wasn’t guilty of any wrongdoing. At least in my mind. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t use what I’d found.

Let me explain. See, I’ve always had a pretty good memory. I could memorize things with very little effort—and in very little time. So, I took the liberty of memorizing the test, all of it, while the teacher was busy correcting my work that I’d turned in for that day.

Back at my desk, I carefully wrote down each of the questions. Then, flipping through the textbook, I found the answers and filled them in. My original thought was to make copies and hand them out to my classmates. But I knew that would cost money; besides, I also knew that someone, wasn’t sure who, but someone, would rat me out. So instead, I conveniently left the test inside another kid’s desk when no one was looking.

As I’d hoped, the next day, this other student shared his new treasure with a friend. And then another friend. Soon, it seemed the whole class had a copy of that test. Except me. It appeared I was the only honest one.

Yeah, my teacher didn’t buy that either.

As I had figured, someone did tell her what was going on. She went around the room, from desk to desk, collecting all the papers that had been circulated. But of course, when she got to me, I didn’t have one.

She didn’t say a whole lot but I could tell that she knew. And obviously, though I didn’t think of it at the time, it was all in my handwriting, which I’m sure she could easily recognize.

As a result of all this, the test was changed. Somewhat anyway. A lot of the same material was on the alternate test the teacher handed out a couple of days later—just switched around a little. But also as a result of all this, I had no problem completing the test; I’d searched out the answers already, and then written them down. The material still was in my head so the answers came pretty easily.

Eventually, a few weeks later, I think, the teacher did ask me if I had taken the test. I said no, but then told her what I’d done. She wasn’t impressed. In fact, she didn’t believe me. She said there was no way I could memorize an entire test in just a few minutes.

So, I recited the test for her, word for word—along with the answers. It worked, she was convinced; I hadn’t “taken” the test. For a moment, I remember thinking I was off the hook. Then she opened her desk, took out my test from that day, and marked a big red “F” on it. Now, some would say I deserved that but I’m still convinced that she just didn’t like me. Still not sure why either! ~

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 One Thing

Well, here we are on the last day of 2018. The end of another year. As usual, it has flown by. In less than twenty-four hours, it will be 2019.

I’ve listened to the usual year-end examination of events—the year in retrospect, listened to the routine New Year’s predictions; the fears and concerns of what a new year will bring. Everything from politics to entertainment to security and health, even our culture will be impacted they say.

I find that for the most part, New Year’s predictions are, well, predictable. There are always those who think the world will end and there are those who say the world will be much better. Most people tend to fall somewhere in the middle, in that, they believe things will improve on some levels and on other levels things will worsen.

I can’t really predict the future but I don’t think all that much will change. Not drastically anyway, or all at once. The world is constantly changing and nothing stays the same but that change is gradual. The change takes time. I’m not sure that simply the advent of a new year really has much bearing on it. Except for one thing.

There is one thing that will immediately and noticeably change. One big change. And it will affect everyone. So, what is the one change?

The answer is a simple matter of addition; the eight in our year will become a nine. 2018 will be 2019—a difference of... one. That’s the one change I predict. ~

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.

That Time Of Year Again

The time I’ve waited for has arrived! And no, I’m not talking about Christmas. And not the New Year either. What I’m referring to is that the days are getting longer! Not really noticeable yet, I admit, but still longer. Being that I’m a nocturnal creature and wake up when darkness falls you’d think I’d be happy with longer nights. But there’s something deeply depressing about it getting dark at 4:30 in the afternoon.

Back when I worked a normal job, with normal hours, I rarely saw my house in the daylight during the winter months—until the weekend. I’d leave in the dark and get home in the dark. Ugh! These days, I do get to see my house during the day but that doesn’t seem to take away the gloomy feeling early darkness brings. I always get the feeling that I’ve been short-changed; that I’ve been cheated out of a full day. And of course, it also affects how much I can get done outside, which leads to frustration.

And that’s why I look forward to the days getting longer. Don’t worry, I still stay up half of the night—or more, ’cause there’s plenty of things to do inside as well, and there’s that nocturnal part of me to consider—but I don’t have the sense that I’m being ripped off and robbed of my daylight hours. And though the time gained is negligible at this point, at least things are moving in the right direction and that always puts me in a better mood.

But six months from now, even though summer (my favorite time of the year) will by then be in full swing, I’ll start feeling a little bummed—because the days will be getting shorter. And again, I’ll be wishing away my life, looking forward to December 21st! ~

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.

The Gift Of Irony

The Christmas shopping is all done. And with more than a week to spare! All the presents for the kids, the grandkids, and everybody else have been wrapped; we’re just waiting on Christmas. I think this is the earliest we’ve ever gotten it all done. And it’s actually kind of a good feeling. No braving the crowded stores for that last minute gift, or gifts, as is usually the case; we’re all set!

Or, so I thought. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t purchased anything for my wife. Not to worry though, it shouldn’t be too hard to remedy. Several years ago, we decided that instead of spending a lot of money on each other, we’d focus on the kids—and now it’s the grandkids. But that being said, we still do get a small gift for each other; a token gift. Something that says “We don’t need to go broke to tell each other Merry Christmas!”

So, apparently, I’ll be heading back to the store tomorrow. I can’t wait much longer or I’ll be wading through the masses just to find a candy bar or something. Okay, I might actually get something more than a candy bar, I suppose. Although... I’m sure my wife would appreciate the chocolate! And truth be told, it wouldn’t be the first time I gift-wrapped a chocolate bar for her. But that was long ago—when we got more than just a token gift.

Now for the ironic part: When I confessed to my wife that I hadn’t remembered to get her a gift, she said that she hadn’t gotten me one either. So while the purpose of our token gift is symbolic and meant to say “I’m thinking of you,” I guess we really weren’t. Hmm, we may need to purchase bigger gifts this year! So much for the Christmas shopping being done! ~

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. 

Old Puzzler

This past week my wife’s parents were visiting from Wisconsin. It was nice to have them here, especially since I hadn’t seen them in a while. Throughout the week, we also had other visitors; my kids and their families came by, as did my parents.

One night when everyone was here, several of us were putting a puzzle together. Some of the grandkids were helping—well, one said he was helping but what he actually was doing was taking the pieces apart and then reassembling them. But at least it kept him occupied!

One of the other grandkids was just watching. I asked if he wanted to help and he said no. I said okay. But he still stood there watching. A few minutes later, I again asked if he wanted to help. Again, he said no. But this time he explained his reasoning.

“Putting puzzles together is for old people,” he said.

I laughed, noticing it was mostly the adults who were working on the puzzle. But then I pointed to the other side of the table where his brother was busy finding where pieces fit. “He is not old.”

“He’s just practicing so when he gets old he knows how to do puzzles.”

Well, I couldn’t really argue with that. I think that’s what we all did; started when we were young and now that we’re “old” we’re using what we learned. And not just with puzzles. I’m pretty sure that’s how most things work.

After thinking about it, I told him that I was doing the same thing—practicing for when I get old. He said, “Grandpa, you don’t need any more practice.”

I guess he could have meant I’m very good at puzzles but I think it was just a nice way of saying I’m already old! ~

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. 

Home For The Holidays

It’s that time of year again. Christmas music is playing in stores. My neighbors have begun decorating, stringing lights, uprooting (or maybe cutting) trees and dragging them into their houses, and shopping is becoming next to impossible due to the sudden influx of Christmas shoppers.

It’s the time of year when I like to stay home. Just avoid the whole mess of crowded streets and parking lots as well as the hoards of people. Yet, in spite of my misgivings, I find myself needing things and end up heading to the store. And then wonder why I did.

This past week I waited in line for what seemed like half an hour. It probably wasn’t that long but as a guy who is always in a hurry, wasting time in a checkout line is a little annoying. Especially when it’s unnecessary. When it was finally my turn to checkout, the cashier asked if I’d found everything okay.

“No, I haven’t found my way home yet,” I said.

The response I got was rather interesting. “Do you need help finding your house?” the lady asked with a look of concerned pity.

Wondering how the lady planned to help me when she didn’t know where I lived, I shook my head. “Just need to get out of this crowded store and I’ll be fine,” I told her.

Again she gave me a strange look, sort of frowning at what I had in my hand. I didn’t know the reason until I looked down at my hands.

While in line, I’d been messing with my phone and somehow had turned on the flashlight. As it was late in the afternoon and dark outside, I guess the lady thought I really was having a hard time finding my way home. Or maybe she just thought I suffered from dementia, I don’t know.

I paid for my items and headed to the door. I noticed the lady still watching me so just to give her something to worry about; I paused in the doorway and turned my flashlight back on. As I left, the song blaring from the speakers was I’ll Be Home For Christmas. Hopefully, I thought. As long as I can find my way with this flashlight! ~

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. 

Maybe Next Time I’ll Wait For Spring

November is a cold month. At least where I live. It’s snowy with freezing rain and lots of wind. It’s not the time of year I’d typically think of building anything outside. Usually. But this year has been different. We’ve had decent weather; no snow, no wind, and a generous amount of sunshine. And that got me to thinking.

I’ve been wanting to add on to my shed for quite a while now and since I had some free time, and the weather was cooperating, I finally decided to do. At first, I thought maybe I’d just get the foundation poured and wait until Spring to finish the project. But that’s just not me. Once I start something, I’m sort of obsessed with getting it done. Besides, the sun was still shining! So, I kept working. Figured I’d get as far as I could before the snow started flying. Built the walls, the rafters, put a roof on it, added the siding and trim, installed a door, and even painted the whole thing. Later today, I’ll be pouring the concrete step to finish it off.

I’m still sort of surprised I was able to get everything done; it’s now almost December. And still, no snow, no wind. But while the overall weather was great for this time of year, it is getting awfully close to winter. And that means shorter days, which translates to getting up earlier in order to have daylight. And even though temperatures have been in the fifties during the day, mornings are another story. For the first couple of hours each day, I thought I’d freeze. I had to work hard just to stay warm! But I guess I should have expected that. After all, it is late November, and November is a cold month. ~

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. 

Respect

So, I went to pick up my five-year-old grandson from Daycare last week. I’d like to say he was happy to see me but the truth is he’d rather Grandma pick him up. But she had the misfortune of having a dental visit. He did seem okay with me being there since Grandma was busy. As he put it, having me pick him up was better than just staying there all night. Nice to know I’m appreciated! But, I’ll take whatever I can get.

My diluted triumph was short lived, however. As soon as he got in, he started giving me the third degree. I probably should note that over the last few weeks I’ve been working, building things—fences, decks, pouring concrete, etc.—and my pickup was showing the signs. I’ve been carrying a lot of tools inside so there was a bit of sawdust, regular dust, and other clutter—in the seats and on the floor.

“Grandpa, you have no respect,” he began.

“Why?” (Never ask a five-year-old a question if you don’t want a long and extended answer).

“You have no respect for your truck,” he said. “You should respect your truck by keeping it clean. If you leave it dirty, it shows you have no respect at all.” He wasn’t done yet. “And if people see that you have no respect for your vehicle, they’ll have no respect for you. So, you really need to clean the inside, and probably wash it too.”

Okay then! I explained that I’d been busy working and hadn’t had a chance to clean the pickup. My excuses fell on deaf ears. When we arrived at the house, as he got out, he gave me quite a displeased look, pointing to the mess. “You know what you need to do,” was all he said.

As you can imagine, I did clean the truck—the next day. When he returned later in the week, I showed him my handiwork. I guess I thought he’d be excited or at least say good job or something. But no. What he did say was, “Now keep it that way!”

I can’t say he’s wrong or that I shouldn’t heed his advice. But I think in a few years, when the kid starts driving, I’m going to show him this blog post. ~

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.

 

Borders Bakery

My wife and daughters have a yearly tradition—a day of baking for the upcoming holidays. They’ve been doing this for ten or twelve years, maybe longer. They call it Cookie Day but it’s not limited to just cookies. They make a lot of treats: chocolatey, caramely, gooey goodies.

At least this is what I’ve been told. I’m never home for Cookie Day so I’m not really sure what they do. For all I know they could go to the store and purchase the ready made delectable confections and then sit around and visit. All I know is when I get home there are platefuls of cookies, candy, and other sweets.

As you can imagine, I look forward to Cookie Day. (Not that I really need all the sweets but I’ve never let that stop me before). This year, Cookie Day is today. Yay!

But this year, there is an added bonus—I’ll be home! First time ever; home for Cookie Day. No waiting until they’re all done to get my sugar fix. And though I doubt they’ll want my help in the baking, I might be allowed to taste test a few things. That is, if they actually DO make this stuff themselves. Guess I’ll find out a little later! ~

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. 

Investing Made Easy

Let’s face it, not everyone can be Warren Buffet, investor extraordinaire. First, most people do not have that kind of money. Many Americans live paycheck to paycheck. And most people do not have that kind of time. We’re busy. We work a job, have things to take care of at home, and that leaves very little time to pay attention to things such as investing.

Traditionally, investing required a fairly large sum of cash to get started. Then there were broker fees, and other costs. The average working person could not realistically afford to invest in the stock market. For those who were able, the learning curve was somewhat daunting. And learning, along with its setbacks, is not all that enticing when it’s costing you your own money. Money that could have been spent on necessities like food and rent.

But times have changed. In 2014, Walter and Jeff Cruttenden launched Acorns, an investment app for mobile devices, making investing accessible to everyone. The following year, the web-based version was introduced. Acorns makes investing painless because you are only investing a few cents at a time and they’ve taken all the guesswork out of the equation. From their website: “Acorns simplified the often tedious and complex process of investing. But that doesn’t mean the investment strategy is any less sophisticated.”

“Our mission is to look after the financial best interests of the up-and-coming, beginning with the empowering step of micro-investing.”

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Acorns is a legitimate and reputable financial service that makes investing simple and affordable for anyone. Acorns is the only micro-investing account that allows you to invest spare change. Set up in under 5 minutes and automatically add money to your diversified portfolio. Acorns offers a user-friendly platform and is rated the number one investment app for new investors.

How does Acorns work?

There are many methods of investing with Acorns but the easiest is their one-of-a-kind Round-ups. When you link a credit or debit card to your Acorns Core account, they track your transactions, round up the purchase to the next dollar, and invest that amount. For example: If you spend $9.56 on breakfast, Acorns would deduct .44 from your bank account and add that to your Acorns Investment account. You choose from one of five pre-built “smart portfolios,” ranging from conservative to aggressive. If you’d like to invest more you can easily do so by taking advantage of the multiplier selection. Simply set your desired multiplier and automatically invest the round-up amount multiplied by 2, 3, or 10.

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So, how much does Acorns cost?

After the first month, which is free, Acorns charges $1.00 per month until your account value reaches $1 million. Since we’re talking spare change, the first few months, with an account of less than $100, that fee may seem a little high but keep in mind that as your investments grow, the fee does not. So, years from now when your spare change has turned into a few thousand, the monthly fee will remain just $1.00 for the basic plan, known as Acorns Core. They also offer $2 and 3$ monthly plans.

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 Before writing this blog post, I wanted to give Acorns a try. I signed up in less than five minutes and after answering a few questions to set up my profile had a couple of debit cards linked. Within a week, my account was growing. That was four months ago and my investment is now worth over $150. Big deal, right? What good is $150? Well, for starters, that’s from only round-ups—money I didn’t even miss. In a year, if I continue on the same pace, that will be $450. And that doesn’t account for gains on the investment. Currently I’m getting a return of 11%. That’s an outstanding percent. I have other investments that do not perform nearly as well.

When setting up my account, I chose a conservative investment portfolio with very little risk. I like Acorns system of “Smart Portfolios” because it means I do not have to pick which companies I invest in, Acorns does all the work. That means I do not have to do hours of research to find a stock. I simply linked my debit cards and that was it.

And if I should ever find myself in a financial jam, and need my money, it is available for instant withdraw to my bank account with no penalty. This alone makes it a far better option than CD’s or many investment firms.

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Speed Reading

For the last couple of months, I’ve been teaching my grandson to read. I’d promised him I’d teach him but was stalling until he was interested enough to pay attention. But when he grew tired of waiting and started trying to teach himself, I figured he was ready. So, we started the lessons.

It was a little slow going at first, introducing him to all the letters and sounds but he has a very good memory so things started falling into place. He was doing well and every few days I’d add another letter—or two.

After a month or so, we were progressing well. Or, so I thought. Then I overheard him tell his Grandma that “Grandpa is a good teacher; he’s just really slow.”

“What do you mean I’m slow?” I asked, pretending I was offended.

Unfazed, and with a roll of his eyes, he said, “We’ve had a LOT of lessons and I still can’t read.”

Somehow, he’d gotten the idea that I was supposed to just tell him all the rules and he’d instantly be able to read.

I tried explaining that it would take a while; that there were a lot of letters and a lot of rules.

“And it’s too hard for you to remember all of them at once?” he asked.

Sure, that’s it.

The child has since had a birthday and as he tells me at almost every lesson, he’s now five. The significance of that is, as he makes sure I know, I’ve been teaching him since he was four and in his mind, that’s a whole year. And still, he can’t read.

Except he can—a little. Of course, that’s not good enough. He wants to be able to read books and everything else. I’ve assured he’ll get there—eventually. Although, eventually would come much sooner if Grandpa wasn’t so slow! ~

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.

Not Out Of The Woods Yet

This past weekend, I had an opportunity to help my brother cut down a few trees. We spent most of the day on Saturday cutting, de-limbing, and cleaning up the mess—well, part of the mess, there’s still more to do. And more trees to cut.

I used to do things like this quite frequently and with no lasting effects. My dad and I used to spend a lot of days cutting and hauling wood—and most of the time, due to fire restrictions we couldn’t even use a chainsaw. Never seemed to bother me. But that was before I’d spent nearly a quarter of a century driving a truck. Truck driving, while somewhat stressful at times, can’t really be considered work. Not manual labor type work anyway. Needless to say—but as always, I’m going to say it anyway—I’m a little out of shape when it comes to actual work.

But, I’m too stubborn to let that get in the way. It just isn’t in my nature to NOT do something. Besides, I couldn’t very well let my brother do all the work. I guess I could, but that would kind of defeat the purpose of going to help him.

So after a long day of real work, when I arrived home, my wife asked me how my day went. I was ready with an answer. “This stuff was a lot easier in my twenties.”

She laughed and agreed that it probably was. She was nice though, and didn’t say that perhaps if I did this kind of work more often it wouldn’t be so hard on me. Although when I mentioned it, she seemed to agree with that also. And that’s why next Saturday, I’ll probably be going back for more punishment—or, work as it’s also known. ~

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.

If I Could Only Fly

When I was a kid, maybe three or four years old, I used to wish I could fly. I saw how effortlessly birds flew and thought if they could do it then so could I. My parents told me I wasn’t a bird and could not fly so don’t try it. But, of course, I didn’t believe them. I wasn’t dumb enough to jump off a tall building or anything; I limited my attempts, my experiments, to leaping off porches and flapping my arms. As it turned out, my parents were right, I couldn’t fly, and I eventually gave up on the idea.

Last week, I spent a few days rebuilding a deck. This was a multi-level deck with stairs and railings—you know, the fun kind to work on! I’m not being facetious, I really do like doing carpenter work, and adding a little complexity to the equation just makes it better.

Part of the refurbishing included taking out the stairs, then rebuilding and relocating them. But first, I planned on using them to get everything to the upper portion of the deck. Once that part was mostly finished, I tore down the steps.

So, there I was, in the middle of the project, immersed in my work, and everything was going as planned. The old staircase was gone but having a bit of work left on the upper deck, I climbed up to finish it off. Then standing up, with my back to the steps—or where the steps used to be—I turned to head down. By the time I saw the empty space—and the big drop to the lower level—I was already committed. So, I just jumped.

Guess what? I still can’t fly! But the good news is, at age 51, I’m still able to jump off a deck, land on both feet, and not break anything in the process! ~

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. 

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. 

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.

Does This Kind Of Thing Happen To Anyone Else?

After a long day of working, manual labor, which as a truck driver I’m not used to, I came home looking forward to relaxing for the evening. But, having no soda pop in the house (I know, that’s like a cardinal sin) I journeyed to the grocery store. All I wanted was to get some pop and return home. But, of course, things are never quite that easy.

I put a carton of Dr. Pepper and one of Sprite in the cart. The price on the shelf said they were on sale for $4.99. Yet, at the register, both rang up for $6.99. This is nothing new, at least for me. Price discrepancy is a regular thing when I go shopping. I used to think it was due to incompetence but then one day I realized the discrepancy is hardly ever in my favor. So, the only logical explanation is that the store advertises a lower price than they charge, hoping no one will notice. But since it happens a lot, and I pay attention to these sort of things, I do notice. Usually. And I did this time. As you might imagine, I don’t really have a lot of patience in these instances, although I usually do start with at least a smidgen.

When I tactfully (I think it was tactful, but I was a little tired) pointed out that I was being overcharged, the cashier politely informed me that I needed to buy two cartons in order to get that price. Almost as politely, I said the price on the shelf didn’t say anything about buying two, just that the price was $4.99.

The cashier, with her politeness ebbing somewhat, grabbed the newspaper and flipped to the page where it showed an in-store ad for Coke and Pepsi products (a single ad listing both). The 24-packs were on sale for $4.99, and it did say, Must Buy Two but then next to that it said Mix and Match.

I’m pretty sure all the politeness was gone from my voice when I slowly pointed to the items in my cart, “One, two.”

Thinking she’d realize that one plus one does indeed equal two, I was a little surprised when she asked, “Is Sprite a Coke or Pepsi product?”

“Not that it matters, since it says mix and match,” I said, “but Sprite is a product of the Coca-Cola Company.” Then, not being able to resist, I ran my finger along the words on the top of the carton, the words that read, “a Product of the Coca-Cola Company.”

“Oh,” the lady says, as if it was the first time she’d heard of such a thing.

There was no time for feeling smug though, since I knew what was coming next.

“And is Dr. Pepper a Coke product?”

Remember how I started this post? I’d had a long day and just wanted to get something to drink and go home. Instead, there I was wasting time in the store. So as you might guess, my patience was quickly fading. With a sigh, I said, “No.” And then in an attempt to speed up this process, I said it’s not a Pepsi product either but it is distributed buy Pepsi in our area, so it qualifies as a Pepsi Product.”

Thinking that would be the end of it, or hoping anyway, I pulled out my debit card, ready to pay. But the saga continued. “So, you would need to get another Pepsi product and another Coke product in order to get the $4.99 price.”

“Mix and match,” I said dryly, thinking I was going to have to explain the concept. Then I figured out the best, and quickest, way to end the standoff. “I’ll go get the price tag from the shelf.”

I’m not sure what it was, the disgusted look on my face, the roll of my eyes, or maybe she knew what the tag said all along. Whatever it was, she suddenly relented and the total I owed instantly dropped by $4.00.

That was a lot of work for four dollars, I thought to myself—especially when I was already tired. But four dollars is four dollars. And it was my four dollars! Turning to leave, I noticed the lady in line behind me had a carton of Coke and a carton of Pepsi. Good luck, I thought. But she must have been listening in on my encounter with the cashier. “Are these on sale for $4.99?”

“Yes,” the cashier said—politely; then went on ringing up the rest of the lady’s items. And that was the end of it!

Is it just me? ~

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.