Yes, I see.

I was thinking about the oddball things the Aussies say, which I’ve picked up from watching “McLeod’s Daughters.” Some of it is well-known Australian slang, but there are other locutions that make me wonder.

One is sort or sort out, as in “I’ll sort something out,” or “You’d better get that sorted.” The same way we would say figure out or straighten out. But -- is that typical Aussie-speak, or is it the person who wrote the script?

Writers do that. Sue Grafton (A is for Alibi, B is for Burglar, etc.) uses “at this point” and “at some point” a lot.

If it was just her main character, you would credit her with giving Kinsey a distinct manner of speech, but when every character says it, then you know it’s Sue who uses that expression a lot.

On my all-time favorite TV show, “Upstairs Downstairs,” somebody is always saying, “Yes, I see.” It happens so often that one can only conclude that it is something the writer says all the time, or else the writer isn’t clever enough to come up with a different line. Maybe “Okay, I get it,” isn’t idiomatic British for 1910, but still, there must be some other way to say it.

Perhaps I’ll get this sorted at some point.

Bears win!

Another step closer to the Super Bowl.

I hope everyone noticed I didn't publish a new post yesterday.  After that whole business I wrote Friday about feeling pressured into putting out a new post every day, I decided I should have the courage of my convictions.

Well, I need a new poll too, don't I?  So far these haven't been any great shakes.  I need something with some teeth.

Over our Sunday dinner we were talking about comfort food.  Apparently when people vote on their favorite comfort foods, ice cream, chocolate, and potato chips get lots of votes.  For me, it's homey things like Mother used to make -- potato soup or meatloaf or a grilled cheese sandwich.  But, if it provides an emotional warm fuzzy, I suppose anything could qualify.

After dinner we watched "Driving Miss Daisy," which is definitely a comfort movie.  Lots of warm fuzzies from that one.

Think I'll go make myself a comfort cocktail.

Now what?

A long time ago -- in fact, 1974 -- a friend suggested I keep a diary.  I had tried that when I was in high school when somebody gave me a diary for Christmas -- a smallish book of red pretend leather with a strap that fitted into a lock and the date printed on every page.  That didn't last the whole year.

My main objection was the notion of having to write in the diary every day.  My friend assured me that it was not necessary.  She said it was most useful for times when I wanted to vent.  So, I gave it a try, beginning with a 5 x 8" spiral notebook, a blue ball-point pen, and plenty to vent about.  I did not write every day -- there are gaps of days and weeks and even months.  But I filled eight such notebooks by 1998, at which time I started word processing my journal instead of writing it out by hand.  Now they are saved on CDs.

I still don't write in my journal every day, but I do manage to record the highlights of my life, and the lowlights, but since it's just for me it doesn't matter if there are gaps.

A blog, on the other hand -- well, do you see where this is going?  I am starting to feel the pressure of having to post something every day.   If I miss a day, I hear about it from some loyal reader or two.  I love having fans, and I really hate to disappoint anyone, but some days I have absolutely nothing to say.  Take today, for instance.

So, loyal readers, and casual ones too -- unless you want more tedious expostulations similar to the foregoing, please don't complain if I don't publish a new post every day.  It's hard on both of us.

It may not matter since the DSO is on strike

Our local NPR station (from MSU) interviewed an economics professor from MSU named Charles L. Ballard this morning. For solving the problem of Michigan's budget crisis, he advocates imposing a state sales tax on services to make up for the tax dollars the state is not collecting because its businesses are going bankrupt and its residents are unemployed.

He tried to head off the argument that it would hurt the poor, who are already burdened with the sales tax on goods, by saying that poor people don’t buy a lot of services. According to Professor Ballard, in fact, it’s the upscale folks to who hire lawyers and accountants and who go to tanning salons and professional sports events, and then he said – and if this isn’t verbatim, it’s freaky-close to his exact words -- “When I go to the symphony I don't see a lot of poor people."

Really, Charley? How could you tell? You didn’t see anybody dressed in rags? Or it wasn’t the first of the month right after the welfare checks arrive? And how close were you to the upper balcony where the cheap seats are, Charley?

OK. I’m done blasting this guy for being an insensitive lout. After all, he's right – poor folks can’t afford tickets to the symphony.

And isn’t that a shame?

And then there were ... fewer

So, it’s lunch time, and I’m surfing a little, and I decide to check the obituaries in my home town – no, I don’t do that often. But I did today.

There were 21 people in one list I was looking at. Three or four names were pretty WASP. There were a couple Polish names, and at least one each of Spanish, Italian, and German origin. I saw one Bohemian name, which pleased me, and a few I wouldn’t guess at.

But then I ran straight into Govostis, Grammatikakis, Kouchoukos, Manikis and Pappas. Holy cow -- 25% of the deceased were Greek.  I never knew there were that many Greeks in Chicago's northwest burbs.  And they're dropping like flies.

This sudden desire to read the obits must come with the Social Security. That’s the only thing I can think of that’s changed. I don't know if there will be other behavior alterations because of it.

But I can tell you that if you’re looking for me on the day the monthly checks arrive – try the bingo hall.

It's Official

I'm a senior citizen.

I've been planning for a year to retire the end of next month.  My last day of work will be February 25.  In addition to taking all the necessary steps to arrange for my official retirement from the company (so I can get my pension) -- and also planning the party -- last week I put in my application with the Social Security Administration.  A representative (one Ms. Uchinski) called me yesterday from the Chicago office to ask a couple questions, let me know what options I might like, and get me all signed up.  My first check (for January) will be direct deposited in my checking account on the second Wednesday in February.

So -- it's official.  I am a senior citizen on Social Security.

A Name by Any Other Name

If this week's poll is lame, which I have freely admitted, how about last Thursday's blog title -- "Today's Blog."  That was clever.  I presume the topic just didn't lend itself.

Back in my days as an academic musician when I used to compose music, I had a real flair for naming the pieces I wrote.  For instance, I wrote a string quartet called String Quartet, and a set of five short pieces for piano is called Five Miniatures for Piano.  My real triumph in naming, though, was just a little something I wrote for solo xylophone called Something for Solo Xylophone. 

Probably I used up whatever creativity I had in composing the music and there was nothing left for the titles.

There was one piece for orchestra that I never finished.  I was going to call it Rug because all it did was lay there.  Maybe that's why I never finished it.

The title of yesterday's post -- "A Couple Thoughts" -- is accurate, if uninspiring.  Of course, when I do get whimsical, nobody gets it.  Like the one about homophones that I called "Homophone T. E."  If you read it more or less backwards, you almost get E.T. phone home (although actually it looks like I'd be telling him to call a gay person). 

I prefer to end a post with a punchline, but I can't today.  I'm depleted.