EAT MY DUST

Back by popular demand.  Okay, back by some demand.  All right, I confess: back because I had something to write about.  Hope you enjoy and will sign up to receive my blog regularly.

EAT MY DUST

Every once in a while we have to do the dirty job.  Yes, I am talking about cleaning out the garage.
We may reach the decision to engage in this nasty task for several reasons: we can no longer get the car in the garage; we can park the car in the garage but cannot open the driver's side door to get out; there are no more flat open areas on which to put “stuff;” the garbage can is back there somewhere but we can't get to it; or, and this is a big motivator, there is the odorous smell of something dead.  All of the above compelled me to decide that the year 2012 would be my year to again clean the garage.

I say again because I am sure I cleaned it once before.  I just can't remember when.  Yes, it was that long ago.

But ask yourself.  Have I lost any tools lately?  Any missing children?  Can I put my hands on that new pair of work gloves I bought last summer?  And, of course, who died and decided to make my garage their eternal resting place?  (I can always hope it is a neighbor's cat; like the one that got locked in the garage several years ago and almost died of starvation.  I like cats, although I am not a cat lover.  I like them the least when they use my lawn or garden for their litter box – or take up a death watch in my garage.)

I always start by moving everything I can out to the driveway.  This alone reveals many lost treasures.  There under the basket on the workbench is that pair of gloves I bought to replace the ones I lost last year.  Aha!  There behind the workbench, on the floor, is that pair of gloves I lost.  Ah well, now I have two, albeit slightly moldy, work gloves.  What's this at the end of this tangle of electric cord?  Oh yes, my leaf blower.  I guess I don't need it anymore, especially since I haven't used it in god knows how long.  Something to sell on Craigslist.

Move things out and put other things away and voila, I can begin cleaning and sweeping.  Next comes the moment of decision.  What am I going to put back in the garage?  Hopefully, some things will be discarded.

Happily, while moving things to the driveway, I discovered the source of “the smell.”  You got it.  I found three dead, slightly petrified, mice.  Three cheers for d-CON.

We used to find abandoned mice nests and gobs of their droppings in drawers and on counter tops from their winter-time residency.  Then I started putting out d-CON in the fall.  As winter approaches the little critters like to move into the garage because it provides better protection from the elements.  I wanted to discourage that.  My hope was that most of them would take the bait back to their outdoor nests and die there, along with the rest of their family.    It must have worked since I only found three dead mice.  One or two of the less petrified must have “taken the bait” late in the winter, otherwise I would not have smelled them.  Now, however, they have gone to that big garage in the sky, and as far as I am concerned they are in a better place.

We can now get the car in the garage – and we can get the driver-side door open.  I have two pair of work gloves, one pair of which I wear to take the garbage can out to the curb for pickup.  And, fortunately, we found no lost children.

It may take a week or two to get the dust out of my sinus passages.

HAIR TODAY, GONE TOMORROW

We have a love-hate relation with hair.  Some body hair we like to grow long and then we pamper and protect it.  Other body hair we hate and do everything we can to get rid of it or, at least, make it inconspicuous.  What is going on with our ongoing war on hair?

Young teen males develop a peach fuzz mustache long before they can grow a beard, that courser facial hair they will spend the rest of their lives in a daily ritual of removal.  Teen males have been known to borrow mom’s mascara to darken their emerging upper lip hair.  At the same time, their mom is using whatever over-the-counter product she can find that will lighten (or, hopefully, remove) her emerging upper lip hair.  We are just never satisfied with our body hair.

I have hair growing in places I never anticipated, the end of my nose, in my nose and in my ears, to name a few.  At the same time, underarm hair and chest hair seem to be dying off of its own accord.  I don’t know why.  Good riddance.  Most western women would be happy to be relieved of their underarm hair once and for all.  Some women have resorted to expensive and sometimes painful procedures to remove hair from various parts of their body forever.

What is the purpose of hair?  Jennifer Viegas writing for Discover News tells us that our human “hair has the ability to enhance the detection of parasites and can even prevent pests from biting.”  Well, there you are.  All those areas we have been shaving over the years are invitations to parasites and pests, and not the human kind.

She further tells us that we have two types of hair: vellus and terminal.  “The former is the aforementioned peach fuzz, while the latter refers to heard hair as well as to pubic hair that develops in the armpits and around the genitals.”  Now I know why women want to shave their underarms.  Who --   besides men, apparently -- wants pubic hair growing under their arms?  Of course, that begs the question of why women enjoy resting their head on their man’s shoulder as they snuggle in the safety of his armpit.  They may assume they are safe there from pests and parasites, other than the human kind.

Like I said, we have this love-hate relation with hair.  We like flowing blonde hair on some people, mostly women, but are repulsed by the hairy arms of some men.  We absolutely do not like other people’s hair in our food.  Hence, food service workers have to wear hair nets and men with beards have to wear a “beard bib.”  (I made that up.  I have no idea what those beard shields are called.)  Some women I know should have to wear one also, but we never see them so dressed when preparing or serving food.  (A little gender bias there, if you ask me.)

Why do we have hair on our fingers, particularly the knuckles?  Are they there to warn us of the approach of pests and parasites?  Perhaps, but three hairs on the end of my nose?  What are they for?  They didn’t use to be there, so am I to understand that my nose is in more danger from attack by parasites and pest as I grow older?  Or, and here’s a thought, maybe that is what the elders meant when they said someone “had a nose for danger.”  Nose hairs let you sniff out danger (pests or pestilence) better than those people without them. 

Age-related experience is supposed to make me a more valuable member of society, a respected elder so to speak.  It may be that I have more value to my friends and family because of my three nose hairs.  Maybe I’ll let them grow.

IT’S MOSTLY ABOUT FEAR

There are a number of things we humans fear but the greatest probably has to do with fearing death.  That appears to be innate.  We are born with it.  We instinctively flee anything we perceive as dangerous, especially anything life-threatening.

Aside from that innate fear, our second greatest fear is a fear of fear.  Franklin Roosevelt said to the nation after the attack on Pearl Harbor by the Japanese, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.”  He was right, but we did not learn our lesson.  In the words of the song from South Pacific, we have to be taught to hate and fear.  And we are carefully taught.

Numerous groups are masters at playing the fear card.  We parents teach our children early in their young lives to fear.  They don’t always know what is going to happen when we say, “I’m going to count to three,” but they learn quickly to fear finding out.  The fear of what may happen is more powerful than the actual consequence, at least in their minds.  And we parents build on that fear.

When I was a child I knew if I misbehaved that I was either going to get yelled at or spanked.  I usually opted for the spanking.  Scolding did not seem to release a parent’s pent-up frustration, so I was faced with living the remainder of the day under the threat of more scolding, more anger, and more little jobs to punish me.  A spanking was pretty much it.  Frustration was released, the crime was punished and that was that.  On the other hand, I dreaded the “Wait until your father gets home” threat.  That forced me to live the rest of the day with my fears of what was to come.

Churches are good at playing the fear angle.  Angels on high may have quelled the insecurity of shepherds in the fields by saying “Fear not,” but ministers and church leaders ever since have used fear as the primary means of keeping the faithful in line.  Listen to any television or radio minister and you will be warned multiple times of the fate that can befall you if you fail to follow the path they prescribe.  You can lose your soul to eternal damnation or you can condemn your town to destruction by not voting the way Reverend Pat Robertson says you should.  A lot of good things are promised, but you can count on a lot of bad things happening if you do not tow the religious line as seen by these pulpit prophets.  Fear, it seems, plays a big role in the pulpit patter.

It did not take long for politicians to notice the power of fear.  Listen to almost any political speech, but especially those given in political ads, and you will hear about all the dire things that will happen if you vote for the wrong person.  “Elect me and I will bring this country back to the greatness it is destined to enjoy.” That suggests, of course, that the country is going to hell in a hand basket and, further, that the speaker has the political knowledge to put us back on the proper road.  Like the ministers they emulate, they purport to know sin when they see it and know how to save us from ourselves.  But first, you must accept the fear they are selling.

What if you do not?  Well, the nation or your town will be destroyed, your children will live in poverty, your soul will rot in hell, your golf score will increase and your income will decline, or something worse.  You will suffer.  This is because they (politicians, preachers, or parents) must build the fear factor in your mind so they can control your behavior.

If we analyze the comments of these prophets of doom we will recognize that we have nothing to fear except the fear they created in our minds.  We are better off learning to deal with the problem rather than the fear.