Tag Archives: standards

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’25 A To Z Challenge – Z

This is the final episode of the 2025 A To Z Challenge.  I wanted to end the series with a bang, but this is what has become the standard, two-days-late, so I can’t do that.  Besides, it’s almost impossible, with a word beginning with Z.  I don’t want to go out with a whine.  I do enough of that without a challenge, so I decided to go out with a

ZHUZH

To make something more stylish, lively, or attractive:

It comes from a language/dialect known as Polari, originating in the mid-1800’s British theater workers, or gay community – often the same thing.

I’ve written about Polari before.  I finally, actually, saw/heard the word Zhuzh used, in a YouTube short.  We went to a party store, and bought a bunch of decorations to Zhuzh up the apartment for Christmas and New Years.  It sounds as gay as it looks.  I will not be using it in conversations or blog-posts – any more!

Some more (hopefully) humorous fibs will be coming up on Friday.  Hope to see you then.  😀

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Flim-Flam Phlegm

I was never a snot-nosed kid, but following my heart surgery, I have become a snot-nosed octogenarian.  It seems that I am constantly sniffing, snuffling, snorting, sneezing, wheezing, coughing, honking, barking and blowing.  It can’t have been caused by the physical operation.  I suspect that I have allergies to one or more of the new medications that I’m taking – irritating, but an acceptable tradeoff.

My Father contracted chronic bronchitis from serving on ships in the North Atlantic, during WW II.  Throughout his life, he suffered extended bouts when he would cough up and swallow mucus.  He probably, unconsciously, learned to self-medicate with Coca-Cola.  The acids help break up the long-molecule phlegm, and ease digestion.

He drank one Coke a day.  He was raised on the old 7 ounce bottle, which Coke first enlarged to 10 ounce, then changed to cans, and finally upsized to standard American 12 ounce – 355 ml here in semi-metricland.  I often saw him crack one, and pour a third of it down the sink.

Possibly because of an increasingly aged population who prefer and can handle only a smaller quantity, the 7-ounce serving is kinda, sorta making a comeback.  Stores are now offering “Minis,” which, here in Canada, are 222 ml, or 7.5 US ounce bottles and cans, .  Other than, “It’s a handy, portable size.” I can’t seem to discover exactly why that size was chosen.

Seven ounces isn’t very much, but in normal circumstances, no amount of soft drink could be considered ‘healthy.’  My Mother nagged convinced him to give up his addiction to Coke, and consume a small glass of milk, instead.  With the best of intentions, it was exactly the wrong thing to do.  Milk, in a stomach already full of phlegm, caused even greater digestive distress.  When we discovered what she’d done, the wife explained the benefits to Mom, and got Dad back on his “medicine.”

Remembering that, now that my nose seems to be constantly running, and my sinuses forever draining, I often swap out my afternoon chocolate milk, for a 6 ounce juice-glass of Pepsi – diluted with an ice cube, a splash of filtered water, and a dash of Morello Cherry syrup.  For more life hacks, follow me here – mostly to ensure that I don’t wander off and get lost.

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Travel Agent Terms

I went to a fancy hotel at a Caribbean resort for a change and a rest.  The Bellboys got the change, and the hotel got the rest.  Be skeptical of what you read.  All is not what it seems.

Old world charm
Room with no radio or TV and one light

Tropical
Rainy

Majestic setting
A long way from town, at the end of a gravel road

Options galore
Nothing is included in the price

Secluded hideaway
Directions to locate unclear

Some budget rooms
Sorry, already occupied

Explore on your own
At your own expense

Minutes from????
By plane

Romantic
No phone in room

Knowledgeable trip hosts
They’ve flown in a plane before

No extra fees
No extras available

Bird watchers paradise
The paint on your car will never be the same

Nominal fee
Outrageous charge

Standard
Sub-standard

Deluxe
Barely standard

Superior accommodations
One complimentary chocolate, one free shower cap

All the amenities
Two chocolates, two shower caps

Just like home
No maid service

Plush
Top and bottom sheets, bed shakes

Gentle breezes
In hurricane alley

Light and airy
No air conditioning

Picturesque
Theme park nearby

24-hour bar
Ice cubes at additional cost (when available)

***

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A Road Not Taken

What alternative career paths have you considered or are interested in?

The days of lifelong careers is past, even for the University-educated.  Social and employment needs and standards morph and alter almost daily.  Especially for the under-educated like me, constant evolution and change are inevitable.  Even ignoring workplace politics, it becomes imperative to adapt and improve – leaving failing industries, and accepting new challenges.

Even in my retirement, I am continuously perfecting my couch-potato, and blogger, positions.  In my brief half-century of working life, I was a bank clerk, a golf pro (in name only – to protect the “real pro’s” amateur standing), a (very small) office manager, a Community College instructor, a production clerk, a time-study clerk, an inventory clerk, Inventory Manager, expeditor, buyer, Purchasing Agent, Materials Manager, Outside Salesman, security guard, shoe-parts cutter, auto-parts press operator, metal-shop press operator, and rail-shipping framer.

There’s really not enough room for any more.  I’ve been a student, a husband, a father, a wage-earner, a mentor, a role-model, and a good citizen.  With my physical and mental limitations, I am satisfied with what I have been.  You really don’t want old Sheldon Shaky-Hands doing your eye surgery – or even your taxes.

😳

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Neither Fish Nor Fowl

Ruler

Canada became metric in 1973….  Or did it??!

So, there was Canada, wedged between England and the United States.  We measured things with the Imperial System – all except where the British 160 ounce gallons, the 40 ounce quarts, and the 20 ounce pints became the wimpy, American Lite 128 oz. gallons, 32 oz. quarts, and 16 oz. pints – and except where you bought a pint of beer, and it was only 12 ounces.

In “Metric” Canada, you can’t buy a pound of butter; you get a 454 gram block.  The wife’s Not-Legally-Pint and Quart glass canning jars are 473ML, and 946ML.  A 12 American ounce can of Pepsi is 355ML in Canada.  At least Canada is not alone in this No-Man’s-Land.  I recently found that the serving ‘Standard’ for beer in Australia is 256ML – or, an 8-ounce cup.  The only time an Aussie bar ever serves just 8 ounces, is to some opal-miner’s 10-year-old daughter.

The weather forecast on the radio doesn’t say that we’ll get an inexact 2 to 3 centimeters of snow, it says that we’ll receive 2 ½ centimeters, because the old guy at Environment Canada still says that it’ll snow an inch.

I thought that all this back and forth might confuse immigrants who are thoroughly embedded in the Metric System, but the Polish women at the EuroFoods store seem to be just as capable of dishing out 300 grams of sliced salami, as they are ¾ of a pound.

We’ve only been at this Metric thing for 45 years now, and with typical Canadian lack of determination, we still haven’t fully committed to it.  This is about the softest conversion that I’ve ever seen.  I wonder if there’s some type of Metric Viagra that could firm things up a bit.  😆

As usual, I hope to see you here again in a couple of days.  Now, let’s see.  In Metric, that’s….  😳  Oh well, come back whenever you like.

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WOW #13

Grumpy Old Dude

Okay, I don’t mind when Dictionary.com gives Donald Trump a hard time. He deserves it.  I take strong exception, though, when they start to insult me.  This week, they chose the word:

Cantankerous

Definitions for cantankerous disagreeable to deal with; contentious; peevish: a cantankerous, argumentative man.

Origin of cantankerous

1765-1775

Cantankerous seems as apt in sound and meaning as honk or boom. One earlier spelling of the word is contankerous, which suggests its development from Middle English contak, conteke “quarrel, disagreement,” from which are formed contecker, contekour “one who causes dissension.” An unattested adjective conteckerous, contakerous could have been formed on the models of traitorous or rancorous or contentious. Cantankerous entered English in the 18th century.

* Standards

I don’t feel that it’s nice for them to describe me as difficult to deal with, or contentious. I am easily pleased. I will happily accept perfection. I also think that it was unnecessary to claim that I am peevish. I may have a few (okay, a bunch of) pet peeves. I have raised them from kittens, until now, they can eat raw meat.

The son works a midnight shift, driving to work late in the evening, and coming home early in the morning, on nearly abandoned streets. When he occasionally has to accompany me somewhere during the day, and watches me pilot through volume of traffic, and the vehicular antics of Kitchener’s ‘So, You Think You Can Drive,’ he has been known to declare, “I hate people!”

I don’t hate everybody. I don’t know everybody. I certainly don’t hate anyone who comes to this site and reads my screeds, so you guys are all safe.

Thor

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HOT-DAMN HOT ROD

Mustang

Once upon a long time ago, shortly after the invention of the wheel….

One day I had to take my car in to a garage to have some work done. Back when ‘Customer Service’ was still a proven fact, and not a forgotten myth, the apprentice mechanic drove me to work and took my car back to the shop.  He, or someone else, was supposed to pick me up at 5:00 PM, when both our firms were finished for the day.

About 3 o’clock, my phone rang. They had dismantled the car, but a couple of necessary parts wouldn’t arrive till early the next morning.  I would have to leave it overnight, and find a way home and back in the next morning.

Home was almost 10 miles across town on a hot August afternoon. Walking was unthinkable.  Transit would mean over an hour, three buses, and still a good walk to the house.  I approached DORIS, a ditzy clerk, old enough to be my mother.  She lived on the same side of town, but normally took a road parallel to mine.

Sure! She could drive me home.  She was also taking Ethel, who lives near me.  At 5:00, we all left the office, and headed for the parking lot.  Doris handed me a key chain, and said, “When I’m in the car with a man, he drives.”  A little strange, but, Okay.

I know she drives a crappy Dodge Dart. The keychain she handed me was quite masculine – a blue rabbit’s foot, one die (dice), and a Ford key.  She saw me looking at it questioningly, and said, “I had to take my car in too.  I’m driving the son’s car.”

When we got to her spot, there was a new(ish) Mustang. I climbed in and fired it up, and saw a couple of reasons why she wanted me to drive.  Gearhead son bought the ‘Tang with the stock 283 cubic inch motor, but had got ahold of, and shoehorned in, a gigantic seven liter (427 C.I.) engine with 4-on-the-floor transmission.  I was raised on standards, so I was good to go.

As I backed up and pulled out, I found yet another reason. While son had installed the big motor and tranny, he hadn’t (yet) put in power steering or heavy-duty front suspension.  Here was an engine as big as Mount Rushmore, sitting over extra-wide front tires. It was like trying to steer the Titanic with a canoe paddle.

Once I got it going more or less straight, on the road home, the conversation turned to language. How could it not? I was in the car.  I mentioned that the first thing I had learned about German when I arrived, was that there are no silent letters.

I had asked a German-speaker about an Amish dish called ‘schnitz und knepp.’ I confused her by pronouncing it ‘nepp.’  This is when she told me it should be ‘kenepp.’  We had recently hired a new, young engineer, named George Kniseley.  When he came around to introduce himself, he pronounced it ‘nizely.’  I told them that, properly, it should be pronounced ‘kenizely.’

Doris said, “Who??”
“George Kniseley!”
“Who??!”
“The young engineer we just hired.  He sits upstairs, across from Bill, our chief engineer.”
“Oh, him!?  I’ve been calling him Kinsley (kins-lee) for six months, and nobody’s said a thing.”

That’s okay, Boris….uh, Doris, I’m sure he doesn’t mind.   😕

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Half A Millennium

Caveman

No! That title doesn’t refer to my age. That whiny rant will be coming up later this month. Stay tuned for your chance to legally stick it to the old Archon.

This is my 500th post. Yay! 😛 Believe me; no-one is more disappointed surprised than me. Stuff just keeps leaking out of my head and falling on the keyboard – and people read it, and like it, and comment about it. BrainRants is right. This is very inexpensive therapy.

I’ve dumped out memories of my childhood, some cooking posts, stories of trips and suggestions for places for my readers to try. I’ve railed about politicians, religion, and just assholes who should get along with the rest of humanity better.

I’ve given a glimpse (well, more like a full-length motion picture) into the slightly off-kilter life of the crazed Archon, and his slightly off-kilter family – a little weird, but basically harmless, often with photographic evidence.

I slowly plod along, from post to post, dropping the occasional clot of keystrokes, and enjoying the warm glow of those who visit and read. I’ve appreciated finding those out there who are just as ‘non-standard’ as I am, possibly more so, and sometimes in surprising ways and directions.

I have a love/hate relationship with the status quo. I like stability, but feel that everyone should have the right to be as individualistic as they want – as long as they don’t frighten the horses or small children. I hope I’ve shown some who are hemmed in by family, employment or religion, that being a bit different is okay, and not evil.

This has been a most enjoyable voyage of discovery, and I hope I’ve given, nearly as well as I’ve received. I’m still not sure about even getting to post number 600, and One Thousand, the full millennium, seems a looonng way away.

Nun

I am a creature of habit, even though I’m not a nun. (Mental image of the Pope having a stroke, and nine Cardinals having simultaneous heart attacks) I’m gonna keep doing this until I can’t, and I thank all of you who have made it fun, and a real learning experience.   😆

500 Posts