Sweet Nothings

Returning to my desk one day

Encountered I a wee surprise

Upon the blotter sweetly lay

A candy heart before my eyes

 

HEY YOU it smiled, in letters red

A cheerful greeting, certainly

But what the morsel left unsaid

Was just who left it there for me

 

How wonderful! A secret friend

Anonymous and passing kind,

To thus my flagging spirit tend

And gently ease my weary mind.

 

For two days I did marinate

In fragrant broth of friendship true,

Ere word came from my candy-mate

In compressed sugar ME & YOU.

 

“Indeed,” thought I. “we noble pair,

United in camaraderie.”

But then SWEET LOVE ‘peared on my chair

And things went downhill rapidly.

 

Who was this amatory boor

Pursuing me with candied guile?

What awful passions lay in store?

What tooth decaying mash-notes vile?

 

 When tasty KISS ME hit my desk

I filed a beef with Personnel.

BE MINE struck me as so grotesque

I called the state police, as well.

 

MY PET, SOUL MATE and YOU’RE SO FINE

Made every day a horror show.

ALL MINE and MISS YOU crossed the line,

And on their heels XOXO.

 

These days the office is a place

Of sniffing dogs and rent-a-cops.

My colleagues hate me to my face,

And still sweet torment never stops.

 

CALL ME a BABY if you will,

But ASK ME if I’ll see this through,

And to myself BE TRUE until

I find out who’s CRAZY 4 U.

Frozen assets

When a house alarm on Thomas Drive went hot at O-dark-30 for the second time in 24 hours, responding deputies were stopped cold. Besides the massive glacier slowly entombing the garage doors from above, they found thick curtains of ice stretched across the inside of many of the home’s windows, the interior locks, hinges and handles of all exterior doors deeply encrusted, and the unpromising gurgle of running water coming from somewhere inside. Contacting the owner in sunny California, units of the Elk Creek Fire Department obtained permission to enter the emergent igloo with extreme prejudice, ultimately hacking their way through the front door with an ax. Within, most surfaces not sheathed in ice were soaking wet, most items hung on walls had fallen to earth, disintegrating drywall lay in soggy heaps all around, and the basement ceiling was now the basement floor. Tracing the flood’s source to the garage, firefighters turned off all water to the house, patched the front door with plywood, and skated.


What Lies Beneath

The owner of a pizza parlor contacted JCSO to report suspicious items buried behind the restaurant. While relaxing in his vehicle at about 6 p.m., an employee saw a man and woman who appeared to be in their 30s park a light blue Chevrolet Blazer beside a hillside that bounds the ally behind the restaurant. The woman got out, buried something in the slope and the pair drove away. Using a stick, the shop’s owner disinterred the object which turned out to be a hollow piece of log containing a sealed tube about four inches long and one inch in diameter that was carefully wrapped in camouflage duct tape. The JCSO bomb squad was called to the scene and satisfied itself that no explosives were concealed within the tube. Opening the dubious treasure chest, a sheriff’s deputy found a pair of dice, a tablet with writing on it and a small hair clip. The items were booked into the evidence vault and the case was reburied.


New Year’s II – The Slacking


 

 

 

“I think in terms of the day’s resolutions, not the year’s.”   Henry Moore

 

Here it is, the middle of January, and already you see them everywhere.

They blanket the trails of Elk Meadow like confetti in Times Square. They rise in heaps and piles beneath bar stools all over town. Busy confectioneries have all but disappeared behind deep drifts of them. They are the desiccating carcasses of that most ephemeral species of human endeavor, the New Year’s resolution, and the best that can be said of this seasonal slaughter is that it’s entirely predictable.

About 45 percent of Americans make New Year’s resolutions on a regular basis. About 25 percent of those confident pledges won’t live to see Valentine’s Day, and another 30 percent will perish from neglect by the Fourth of July. According to several persistent pollsters, in fact, just 8 percent of all New Year’s resolutions survive a full calendar year, a revealing statistic suggesting that the essential element missing from most resolutions is actual resolve.

Orbit after orbit, Americans’ top three New Year’s resolutions in order of popularity are 1.) Lose Weight, 2.) Get Fit, and 3.) Live Life to the Fullest, the second runner-up having the advantage of being subject to easy re-interpretation on the fly. Other perennial favorites include Get Organized, Spend Less, Drink Less, Travel More, Get a New Job, Spend More Time with Family and Fall in Love.

Those are all excellent aspirations deserving of best effort. So why don’t 92 percent of them get it? As always, a contemplative coterie of academics has pondered that very question and identified a few of the fundamental flaws that each year keep something like 150 million Americans from meeting their better selves. Behold now their accumulated wisdom and resolution-ary strategies for responsible personal improvement.

 

Nanny No-No

Most people choose for their New Year’s Resolutions things they feel they “should” do, rather than things they actually want to do. Sigh. If your heart’s not really in it you’re halfway to hopeless right out of the gate, which is why experts recommend confining yourself to goals already endowed with a healthy supply of personal motivation. There’s a world of difference between pinching pennies because your financial advisor told you to and being careful about spending because you’re tired of eating process cheese sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and dinner, or because you’d look really, really cool on a brand-new motorcycle and/or the beach at Punta Mita.

Let’s Be Clear

“I’m gonna get in shape!” is a great idea and a lousy resolution. There are a hundred different ways to trim down and tone up, leaving you way too much discretion as to method, timetable and result. Will you jog? Swim? Hike? And how often? How far? How exactly will you know when you’re finally “in shape”? With so much wiggle room to work with, most people will quickly wiggle out of their commitment altogether, making specificity a key ingredient in the formulation of sensible resolutions. “I’ll jog two miles a day for three days a week until I’ve lost five pounds” boxes you in, which is exactly why it has a fighting chance to succeed. Psychologists advise choosing goals that lend themselves to rigorous scheduling and measurement, and then applying plenty of both.

 

Reality Check

Cold-turkey is for turkeys, and a critical failing of many resolutions is obvious over-reach. Instead of resolving to complete your first marathon by June, pledge first to get through the Fourth of July 5K Freedom Run without throwing up. Foreswear sweets across the board and you’ll just end up face-down in the quart of Rocky Road you’ve taken to stashing behind the frozen peas. A more reasonable approach might be to exchange diet cola for the full-strength kind, or maybe stop sugaring your Lucky Charms. You’re not the pillar of self-discipline you think you are, so don’t bite off more than you can chew.

One to a Customer

For those of you who’ve resolved not to be bored by long-winded scientific explanations in 2017, suffice it to say that neural scientists have determined that your odds of achieving a given New Year’s resolution decrease in direct proportion to the number of resolutions you make. The way the eggheads tell it, even a milk-run resolution requires will-power, and even a small expenditure of will-power consumes an enormous amount of mental energy. The term “cognitive fatigue” is just a six-bit way of saying that the more resolutions you’re burning brain-time on, the less will-power you can apply to any one of them and the more certain will be your abject defeat on all fronts. For best results, pick one and done.

Share the Load

Whether you’re swearing off carbohydrates or social media, self-improvement is a heavy burden to bear alone. Tell your family. Tell your friends. Tell your co-workers. Tell the kid who shovels your driveway. By making sure lots of people know about your brave resolution, you’ll not only ensure priceless moral and emotional support, but you’ll pretty much guarantee immediate contempt and ridicule when you try to weasel out of it. There’s nothing quite so motivating as the fear of public shame.

Mixed Messages

We are all of us frail creatures, and a little back-sliding is built into our DNA. That you missed a scheduled hour on the treadmill is no good reason to throw up your hands and sink back into your original program of overindulgence and sloth. If you’re bent on a positive change genuinely desired, don’t get sidetracked by the occasional lapse. On the other hand – and the experts are quite adamant on this point – there is no statistical rationale for attempting a failed resolution a second time. If you couldn’t read a book a week in 2016, there’s no good reason to think you’ll be able to do it in 2017. Accept defeat gracefully and move on to one of your countless other character deficiencies in desperate need of remediation.

“Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every new year find you a better man.”   Benjamin Franklin

 

Bedeviled ham

‘Twas the night before Christmas when a Silverhorn Drive resident phoned JCSO with a delicious mystery. Some weeks before he’d received an email from the Honey Baked Ham Company thanking him for purchasing their eponymous product from an outlet in Michigan. Not long after, UPS informed him that they’d successfully delivered the savory feast to a hungry household in Georgia. Problem was, while both messages contained his correct personal information, he was reasonably sure he’d never agreed to subsidize a stranger’s celebratory supper. On the plus side, Honey Baked Ham was able to provide the last four digits of the credit card used to buy the glazed goody, a credit reporting agency confirmed that no such card had ever been issued in his name, and no pork-related charges had ever appeared on his account. Even so, he feared lest some swine go hog wild with his identity. Suspecting an innocent email error on the pickled pig purveyor’s part, a deputy gamely attempted to contact the company by phone, but its offices are apparently not staffed on Christmas Eve.