Speaking of Cleaning

JR Watkins Dish Soap

This is about as mundane a blog entry as it gets: a report on our usage of dish soap during the pandemic. Last night I opened our 19th bottle of J.R. Watkins Dish Soap since the pandemic began. No, this isn’t an ad for J.R. Watkins although we are in love with their grapefruit-scented soap, this is a reminder to ourselves about the year when we used 18 bottles of dish soap. In all likelihood, we didn’t use that many bottles of soap during the previous 20 years. In part because we weren’t doing the dishes all that often because we ate out a lot, and then there were those years we’d use our dishwasher, but as time has gone by we never really got along with that infernal machine running for an hour and then having dishes come out not absolutely spotless. So, we wash all of our dishes by hand and have done so for years now. Still, it’s been more common for a bottle of soap to last so long that as we approach the bottom of a bottle that it’s a thickened goo from all of the moisture that evaporated. For all I know, a bottle of dish soap previously might have lasted for years. I mean, who tracks this type of consumption?

Well that’s a contradiction, John, as you are reporting here the opening of the 19th bottle, so you obviously are tracking it. Not really, it’s about the convenience of Amazon, their order history, and my realization that we appear to use a lot of this stuff.

Have I ever shared with my readers that I recently calculated how much toothpaste I’ve used in my lifetime? I think I missed that, so here it is. Over the previous 21,170 days using 0.5 grams of toothpaste per day, I estimate that I’ve used more than 23 pounds or 10 kilos of the minty stuff.

Cleaning Out

Navajo Loom in Phoenix, Arizona

What is it about springtime that kicks in the need to deep clean our nest? So it was once more as Caroline and I dug into the deepest recesses of our place and went to work in the closet. Consolidation and donation were this year’s theme as we organized Caroline’s extensive yarn and fiber stash and brought about 25 pounds of clothing and a bunch of other things to Goodwill. As for the loom above, it will be offered to the lady who taught us the techniques of Navajo weaving for her to sell or donate to someone who might benefit from it. The rug that still sits on the loom was one of my efforts from maybe ten years ago. Since I abandoned it, it has gathered dust.

The imperative to reorganize from time to time is essential as we are in a relatively small space. We have an outdoor storage space that is a small 40″ x 40″ in size, while our closet is probably about 6′ x 7′. So, within those confines are the things that might need to be accessed only a few times a year, such as empty suitcases, camping gear, and Caroline’s yarn supply, along with some dumb things like VHS tapes, cassettes, and CDs we are not ready to part with. Some of the yarn and fiber are stashed in our bookshelves that were bought with the intention of them acting exactly in that capacity, hence why some sections have doors for yarn storage while others don’t, allowing direct and immediate access to our on-paper artifacts.

We do not have a rented storage space or a garage; I’m pointing this out because we know people who have all of the above and a couple who are renting two garages. For the life of us, we cannot fathom what might be stored in a garage that’s worth $1200 a year in rental fees, while nearby storage units seem to cost about the same or more. Then, on our morning walks, we always pass garages stuffed to the rafters with a narrow path cut through the hoarded junk. The funny thing is that Caroline and I feel like we’ve fallen victim to excess consumption, and yet we are in a small apartment of a mere 874 square feet or 81 square meters. Should we ever move back to Europe, there’s a good chance we’ll be in something closer to 650 square feet, which means we’ll have to shrink our footprint even more.

Maybe spring cleaning should be a twice-yearly event in which “consolidate and donate” is always the theme.

Welcome Back, Vibrancy

Springtime colors in Phoenix

I’m confused whether we are still in the midst of springtime or if we’ve jumped right into summer. The burst of color says spring, but the thermometer says something else. Approaching 100 degrees in early April and requiring us to turn on the air-conditioning is disheartening and portends a potentially super hot season on our horizon. Then again, I’m renowned for being incredibly wrong with my predictions of what the future holds.

This splash of vibrancy wasn’t meant to provide a place to vent about some minor atmospheric discomforts though. It is here to celebrate a side of life moving back to ecstasy. The birds are singing wildly, darting about looking to attract mates, while the mockingbirds return to leaping off their perches before fluttering back into place. Lizards are scurrying between shaded spots, bunnies dart across open spaces, and pollinating insects are checking in with the first saguaro blooms. Our skies are still a vibrant blue awaiting summer to officially arrive and wash them into faded shades of their former selves.

Then, just when you think the heat is here to stay, a break in the weather lets the midday temps drop back into the upper 70s. Mornings feel chilly at 60 degrees. With this potential last opportunity to feel the brisk fresh air, Caroline and I headed to a nearby frog pond for our morning walk. While there wasn’t any croaking going on out there, we did see a turtle and plenty of tadpoles plucking insects from the surface of the murky waters. It’s beautiful on this trail and surprisingly quiet. Maybe there could be a few more of these precious days before Phoenix turns into a blast furnace.

Platforms and Egos

Gutenberg Press

Do you think free speech is what you find or deserve on Facebook? Are you outraged when Zuck censors you, thus stepping on your 1st Amendment rights? Well, please let me help inform you that there is NO social media site that owes you a place to share ideas, NOT A SINGLE ONE! Twitter, Instagram, Discord, Facebook, TikTok, or even Parler are companies, not government-sponsored platforms financed by taxpayer money, for the benefit of the people to vent whatever crazy idea they happen to be espousing.

Never in the history of the United States did a radio or TV station have to provide broadcast time for an individual to share their thoughts. No publisher of books, magazines, or newspapers has ever been obliged to print the opinions of someone. These businesses operate under the capitalist idea of needing to make money, end of story. Even public broadcasters like PBS and NPR operate under charters that demand they only distribute content that is in the best interest of the community and extends culture; they are not political platforms for sharing ideologies.

So why do people feel they are entitled to use a for-profit service on the internet to say or share whatever they strongly believe in? I’d guess that, in part, it has to do with them watching stupid cat videos and porn on the internet so that this idea seeps into their head:  if these people can distribute this stuff, why can’t I share what I want? They fail to understand that cat videos draw people in for entertainment, which pushes advertising, which makes a profit for those involved in the behind-the-scenes operations, and the same goes for porn. But somewhere along the lines that delineate a business and a public area such as a park or the front of a government building, individuals come to see social media as an extension of the public domain, and hence, they have the “right” to say what they please. They do not.

This rapidly changing online sphere is evolving at lightning speed, and when the general public fails to understand history, they are blinded by their insatiable desire to have things their way, or so people want to believe when they’ve grown up in America in a system of total freedom. They don’t understand boundaries or evolution. Take books and newspapers, the printing press was invented in 1440, but it took almost 560 years before the average person could print on demand a title they wrote. Television was invented in 1927, but it took more than 70 years before an individual could stream their own content to try to find an audience. The first social media site was created in 1997, but it wasn’t until 2004, when Facebook launched, that the social media craze began in earnest. We are now in the age of growing pains.

The first books did not have photos because it took almost four more centuries until photos were invented; color printing first happened about 100 years ago. Color television wouldn’t start broadcasting until 26 years after the TV was invented, and now people watch 4k images on 86-inch flat screens and take for granted that it’s always been this way. The internet is going to go through the exact same transformations, and the reality is that someone else’s company, no matter how large, is not your personal platform to say and show what you please. The platform you feel you deserve is up to you to create, pay for, maintain, and deal with any legal ramifications that it might run afoul of.

At the root of people’s desire to put themselves on a platform is a history of the individual being on the sidelines, existing in the realm of the anonymous. Then in the past 15 years, humanity has been witness to every type of character finding riches by some act or other that catapults them onto the public stage. The person watching this feels that they have something valuable to offer as well and start looking for their voice. Controversy seems like an easy stepping stone, and so the messenger races down the rabbit hole, hunting for topics that have the ability to incite others. Raising eyebrows is a profitable business, and everyone wants their fair share, their moment in the spotlight, so they too can be important.

Cultivating something worth sharing other than a constant outpouring of rage requires one to hone the ability to craft something. While some would argue that manufactured outrage is valuable to our discourse, since when has bludgeoning an enemy ever brought those persons to a new way of thinking or living? If you are on the edge of the spectrum where the mainstream resides, you might try art, indie film, philosophy, or wrap your message in music to find like-minded souls, but believing your anger deserves the highest platform is delusional at best. But what of recent politics, John? Populism is typically (and hopefully) a short-lived movement that doesn’t inflict too much damage on the masses, but it can be undeniably profitable to exploit that part of the population that typically exists without a voice. If we are lucky, populist movements disappear, allowing the march of science, logic, and reason to move forward.

Endless Repairs

Blog Repairs

After I embarked on my newest chore, Caroline sent me an article about Hyperfocus ADHD. She knows me well and knew that after I started on this bit of work, I wouldn’t come up for air for a while. So, what exactly am I doing? I’m running 2,568 blog entries through Grammarly to verify that things are okay among the 1.3 million words I’ve written over the past years.

This all started because of a prior Herculian task which involved putting together a page featuring a single photo from every day we traveled since the advent of the digital camera. At the 501st post, I grew weary and took a pause, which lasted months. This is tied in with today’s entry because it was something related to the photos I posted for a particular entry and a seemingly lost image I thought I included on the page titled Travels In The Digital Age. As I got to that post, I saw errors in the grammar and felt I needed to correct them. That took on a life of its own, and now I’ve finished validating the grammar of 940 blog posts and have 1,628 to go.

Obsessively, my hyperfocus drills deep into my sense of “I must finish this as soon as possible” so I can focus on something else. Two something elses are in line to take over my hyperfocus. The first is I have to expand the photos included with early blog posts as those often only include a single photo to represent an entire day of travel; this was due to bandwidth limitations on the internet back before 2015. I needed to be conservative with how many images I shared; now, I’d like to rectify those omissions.

I’m estimating I’ll be done with this aspect of quality control in about ten days, at which time I can turn to determine the exact blog entries I need to flag for adding more images and consider what I might be able to say about them so many years after the fact. In the past, when I’ve written to images where there were no notes to help in the exposition of what transpired, I’ve given a warning at the front of the entry that what I’m sharing is wrung from memories that might be over 15 years old. So it goes.

Now we get to the ultimate reason for this diligence: this blog will someday disappear. When it does, I would like to know that my favorite writings will continue on into the future and the best way I’ve identified for that to happen is in print. To get to the point I can take much of this into book form I really need the grammar and images I want to include to be the most representative of our time.

But John, why do you think there should be any interest in these missives 100 years from now? Two people ventured deep into the breadth of America, recording their adventures for decades. With over 250,000 digital photos taken during those years and hundreds of thousands of words that accompany the images, I tend to believe that few others armed with a camera and notebooks captured so much detail while exploring America and occasionally Europe. I’d posit that we are the first to extensively chronicle our travels and life in America in the history of the country as what are the odds of another couple traveling for the past 22 years armed with digital cameras on over 200 travels and countless experiences?

With that knowledge and knowing that the bits and bytes that comprise this endeavor are temporary in nature, I feel it’s imperative to push this history into the permanent record. So, on I go with running Grammarly over this labor of love before focusing on prepping photos to fill some gaps and then identifying which entries should be preserved. Once all of that is finished, I can go to work on preparing the images for print, which have different requirements than what I’ve done to share them electronically.

Now, back to the endless repairs.

Update April 13th: I’m up to about 300 posts a day, with only 970 awaiting repair.

Porky Excellence

Wagyu Bavette and Mangalitsa Secreto

When I was a kid, I read magazines such as National Lampoon, Mad, Hot Rod, Omni, and Popular Mechanics. On the back of some of them, I’d find ads for mail-order companies from which I could order product catalogs for things I dreamed of one day being fortunate enough to buy. When I became a teenager, I graduated to reading Force Mental, UnSound, Fangoria, and began exploring alternative music and how to make horror films. As a young adult, I brought in Film Threat and an old favorite called the JLF Catalog that dealt with “Poisonous Non-Consumables.” I’m sharing this reminiscing about the old days when there was a delta between the initial discovery of something and the arrival of catalogs or other materials, educating me about the new-to-me subject matter. Another delta occurred after I put in my order while I sometimes waited weeks before I’d take delivery of that special something.

UPS Map Arizona

That age is over, as we are now in the era of instant gratification, where everything is accessible right away, which brings me to the reason for this blog post today. I’m at a coffee shop watching a map that shows me where my UPS driver is with a 32-pound box filled with dry ice and frozen Mangalitsa pork I ordered on Friday. This isn’t the first time I’ve had fresh food shipped in from other places; I’ve had pizza from Buffalo, New York, sent to us, frozen walleye and perch from northern Canada, and Wagyu beef from Idaho. Ordering perishables from companies I only discovered minutes before offering them a credit card number, sometimes receiving shipping confirmation on the same day I placed my order, is such a magnitude of amazing that I have to slow down and recognize it is part of my reality. Of course, if you were born after 1995, this is your normal, which I suppose puts me in a similar situation to those people who would fondly recollect the days before the cars, planes, TV, and smartphones.

Today’s cache is a type of pig that is otherwise not available in the state of Arizona. While there was a local farmer we were able to buy Mangalitsa from, their land has been sold to developers who are building homes, so that is that. But isn’t a pig just a pig? Nope. Mangalitsa is a serious breed apart from other pigs, with red meat instead of pink and a type of fat that claims to be as healthy as olive oil. When I come to think about the time from my early life to now, I suppose the biggest change is how compressed the entire process is. Then again, this level of indulgence where I can buy fresh products in an environment in which shipping is so efficient and relatively inexpensive was never available before, except maybe for the ridiculously super-wealthy who could privately fly goods in.