SUBLIMINAL SUGGESTIONS Funny the impact words have on one's psyche or should I say subconcious or dinner. In lunching with my sister the other day I realized my sisters do not have lemon slices in their teas after I laid out the possibility that "they who slice" may not have clean hands or store slices in unsanitary conditions. That's what I get from hanging out with industrial hygienists, one of whom never drank anything in public but hot water-taking the germy concept to a new level. I myself have no problem inviting Sam & Ella Lemontree to my iced tea trusting my somewhat reliable immune system. Or as Mother would say "everybody needs to eat a little dirt in their life".
Another "Motherism" is my constant need to "check" before I go out of the house even on short errands where I know a restroom will be available. It's ingrained from my youth. I even force the grand boy to "check" before we leave. He finds this doubly annoying as in a pinch (sometimes not) he would rather take aim outdoors at a trusty tree. What is it about boys/men?
TRAVEL WOES Continuing the water hole theme one of my anxieties in Europe was finding and recognizing available water closets. In France there were public, semi-public and river oppourtunties for relief. One of the worst on the street was shaped like a burrito that slid open, after inserting the appropriate coinage, revealing a trough that one crouched over like a badger fighting a mongoose . I stationed my sister nearby, with appropriate coinage, to rescue me if the magic door failed to open allowing my release. After several days, I just learned to hit hotels-Marriots are Marriots everywhere..duhh.
Though a highlight at Mont Saint-Michel (Normandy) was meeting my first "une dame pipi" who guarded "les toilettes" with a scowl and master grip on the pipi paper ( I made pipi paper up to stay in character). She extracted her toilet tax, but a simple "Bonjour Madame" & "Merci Madame" made her less formidable. Incongruously this was the site of an old monastary (with currently practicing monks). Relief stations were located at the top. Your trip up the Mont is laborious but filled with food and souvenier shops so one was in dire need at the summit. But of course mon ami.
Great Britain was less intimidating, but then we spoke the language. Although bidets are still a mystery to me as one still has moisture to contend with, I totally get the concept. Europeans think we are way too attached to the pipi paper. Note to self -- always carry PP.
POD UPDATE Shifting gears as I am apt to do, I completed my podcast on Mental Fitness in the Workplace. Some startling statistics included that 21% of construction worker fatalities are from suicide. Another surprise is that studies indicate that 40% of the workforce is at some level of depression...or not totally present...or fogging...at work! Ok-think power plant operator, pilot, engineer, truck driver, medical personnel, etc. Couple that with distracted employees and we have a crisis indeed. But some employers are still thinking overtime and working six days a week is productive. hmmmm. Now I'm depressed.
I am hoping to nail down the heat stress poddie this week and publish while we experience one of our hottest weeks of the summer. Also had an interesting meeting with the MIOSHA media person who wants to partner on podcasts. He was a reporter before this gig and said he liked doing wide-ranging interviews and open-ended questions. I told him that's the way you do it when you have an editor who picks out the good parts to fit in the timeframe. In this case, I have to nail it in one take. He was suitably impressed lol -CUT! Well it was predicted that I would end up doing safety for the Governor one day so interviewing the Deputy for the Labor Department and partnering with MIOSHA will get me close, and not a moment too soon. I'm getting older LOL.
SWEET RELIEF An advantage of working from home is the freedom to place one's desk in a strategic spot. Mine is in the front window right next to my humming bird feeder. Throughout the day our friend flutters in, sips and darts away. A tiny body clothed in a necktie and iridescent green not as big as my fist, yet fiercely aggressive toward any errant bird that dares to steal his sweet reward. With a cylinder that could support multitudes, it is his alone. As dusk draws near, his trips grow more frequent and more filling. Barely touching, but never stopping all the way to the convenient perch beneath his feet, he sips 5, 10, 15 times preparing for the semi-hibernation of night. Like Dad used to refer to them, we call him Hummer...Peace Out 💚 💙💛
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