What I wanted

The other day I wanted a donut. Normally, I would’ve done what any sane person would do in such cases, go to a donut shop, and buy some. Unfortunately. my sister was visiting me. She scowled at my store-bought donut idea, saying she could make donuts far better than those. I agreed, and tried to pour coffee into a travel mug, and grab my keys. She scowled harder. What? I asked. I soon found out what, and I should have never asked.

What she meant was, she was going to make my morning donuts. Sadly, I had none of the ingredients. I was chased off to the market for yeast, unbleached flour, granny smith apples, corn starch, peanut oil, limes, confectioners’ sugar, cinnamon, and two things with names I can’t pronounce so she wrote them down. I won’t repeat them, because I’m not sure the names will offend the more sensitive members of my audience.

What I got

Now a dozen donuts cost twenty bucks, and the ingredients, she had me buy, cost seventy. Also, it took me over an hour to find all of them, and I had missed my coffee, because she sent me out without my mug. I could have coffee when the donuts were ready, she promised. These had better be some darn good donuts for all that trouble. The problem was, I wouldn’t know for four hours, because the dough had to rise, the filling had to set, and the glaze had to harden. I wanted donuts for breakfast, not for dinner.

Eventually, along about sunset, we had the most wonderful apple filled donuts you ever tasted. Of course, we had to spend hours praising my sister, and not feed her rat-dog to my cat in gratitude, maybe next time Cap’n Blood, sorry. The tasty treats made it almost all worthwhile. Almost! The thing is, you should learn something from all experiences; First, homemade is better. Second, it’s not worth it! Never! No way! No How!

My kitchen was a mess, I missed lunch because she had taken over the stove, there was flour in places I didn’t know existed, and that silly rat-dog is still running around my house leaving more chocolate chips than my rabbit. Besides, I could have bought twelve different flavors, if I’d gone to the shop. Sure, her apple ones were the best, but I wasn’t willing to wait another year to see if her raspberry were just as good. Nope, Do-It Your-Selfers be darned. I want instant gratification, and I want it now. Look, I can go pay twenty-five-dollars for prime-rib, or pay the same for a hunk of meat, and cook for six hours. Just because I know how to do something, doesn’t make it better.

What I like

This is why I have slow growing bushes in my yard, and nothing else. They look the same, winter, spring, summer, or fall. There’s nothing but wood chips all around the bottoms. No muss No fuss. My garden always looks good, not great mind you, good. To achieve great, you have to be Ben Wolstein. His garden looks great. It starts with irises in the late spring, giving way to lilies into the summer. In the late summer / early fall the daises and mums show up. It’s great, but he’s out there every day weeding, and pruning, watering, and adjusting, but never enjoying. Good is good enough for me.

 This is a lesson I wish others could learn. Recently, my aunt’s garage was hit by a falling tree. The whole thing was demolished. The insurance said they’d pay for a new one. So far so good. Unfortunately, replacing it came with choices. Choices are bad. Choices are the enemy of simple. You see, the replacement people came out and asked how big of a garage she wanted? Now, she used her garage for storage, and it never held a car. The people said they could make a garage big enough for a car, and storage. This sounds good, but is it really? Let’s look at it.

What actually happened

If she gets a bigger garage, they have to dig a hole and pour more cement. It’s paid for, so who cares? I care. They dug the hole, then it rained every day. They couldn’t pour the cement until it dried. Now I have all her stuff in my basement, and she has a mud lake next to a cement slab which could’ve been a garage if she had accepted good, and not wanted extras.

Then there’s my son. Last year he commuted to college. This year he wants to live on campus. I give him a lot of credit. He worked and saved all spring and summer to have the money to do it. Still, he needs a small student loan. It’s not too bad really, the problem again is choices. Everybody on the face of the earth wants to loan us money, except no one wants to actually give us the money they loan us. “Huh,” you say? It’s the truth.

I tried to avoid them but they were thrust upon me

We’ve received hundreds of emails, and snail-mail telling us we’re pre-approved for loans, and we’ve even applied for a few. Some told us outright that although we were pre-approved we weren’t really, really, approved, so no money. One actually came from the school, then when we were approved, had to go back to the school to see if he was honestly a student or an alumnus. It came from the school, they should’ve known. Two approved us straight out and told us he would only have to pay back three times the loan in interest. We declined their generous offer.

Now, when I went to college, I got my loans from a bank. The rates were reasonable, and I was able to pay them back fairly quickly. Therefore, I went to a bank to see about a student loan. They were the only ones who didn’t want to give him money. Banks no longer make loans to students. I find this quite strange. Banks all over the country have been trying to give my college bound boys credit cards for years, but they refuse to give them cash for what they actually need, tuition. I wonder if I can pay tuition with a credit card? His of course. My credit sucks.

Very colorful but not easy

Then there’s paint. Walking into a paint store, you’re hit with sixteen-bazillion colors. Telling the lady you want light blue, she comes back with, “Okay, how much green or purple do you want in it?” How am I supposed to know how much purple is in my blue? Even if you can pick a color, you have to pick a finish. Your choices are: Gloss, Semi-gloss, Eggshell, Satin, and Matte. The lady once told me I should get a matte finish. I agreed saying, “Okay, how much does Matt charge to do the finish work?” I didn’t know. Remember I’m lazy. I like things simple.

When we bought our house my wife told me to paint the hallway white. This sounded simple, and as a new homeowner I thought I’d give it a try. I went to the store, and found out they carried one-hundred-sixty-seven shades of what they called white. AHHHHHHHHH!