Hate is too strong a word, so dislike will have to suffice to describe my deep-seated distain for Susan Torgelson.
Whenever someone asks ‘why don’t you hand write your letters?’, Susan Torgelson invariably comes to mind.
She was my 2nd grade tormentor at Springville Elementary on the north side of Omaha. Whenever we had a handwritten assignment (which seemed all day, every day) she waltzed through with sickeningly perfect penmanship. She sat straight across the aisle, she with her perfect posture and perfectly formed letters that abutted, but never escaped, the double lines on elementary school paper. Her letters were a mirror image of the perfect alphabet painted atop the chalk board. Me, on the other hand, raced at all speed to get the job done but I never once finished before Susan, who would smugly lay her perfect pencil down on her perfect paper and cast me the evil eye as I labored to scribble semi-circular ‘Os’ or a legible lower case ‘t’. The best I could do was seek my revenge at dodge ball during recess.
The girl drove me nuts. The harder I tried to keep up, the worse my lettering became. She must be to blame for my ingrained habits. Susan forever ruined handwriting for me. I can’t recall what I had for lunch yesterday but more than 50 years later Susan Torgelson’s name is synonymous with poor freehand. I have been reeling ever since.
Even doctor-penned prescriptions surpass my feeble efforts at longhand. I would love to pen a letter in flowing cursive that my kids and other recipients would ooh and aah over. Hell, I can’t even read my own writing. MicroSoft Word fills the ever-widening clarity gap for me.
No doubt Susan Torgelson’s perfect handwriting vaulted her to the top of the handwriting world. I wish her no harm. Maybe she became a steelworker or a cement mason. Now that would be poetic justice yet I’m sure she made something of herself thanks to her accursed neatness.
Since today is Wayback Wednesday, here is an oldie but goodie (you be the judge) to Ellen and Reid.
EB/Reid: Well, we’ll put these letters back on a Monday schedule. Here’s hoping this finds you both hale and hearty.
The weather here continues to be unbelievable. Warm and toasty. I keep waiting for the onset of fall with full colors, crisp air, a hint of winter. But the foliage is still green, it’s humid, flowers are blooming. This will take some getting used to. Hey, as long as there’s no shoveling of snow, then I can get used to this real quick like.
Close on the new house this Friday, knock on wood. I’m excited about it. With the bedroom and two big pieces for the living room out of the way, now it’s on to accessories and such, which would be like lamps, rugs, end tables, some art for the walls. I’m not into pillows and cushy stuff, but the women in the office are incessant in wanting to coach me, help me, guide me on that sort of item. ‘Oh, go here for the best rug deals’ says one. ‘No, go to this flea market for the cheapest lamps’ says another. Hell, I saw a great woolen rug next to the peanut butter and cereal displays at Sam’s Club this weekend. What’s wrong with that? Like people are going to say, ‘hey, didn’t you buy that rug at Sam’s Club?’ I don’t think so.
My stuff is scheduled to arrive in the van next weekend. I can’t wait. Living out of a suitcase isn’t my cup of tea. And while the apartment is close to work and convenient, I just want a place of my own. Wish I had a bit of yard for a garden. That’s the one downside to a townhome.
Found a good blues place and have been going there with some regularity. Went to see Aimee Mann (aimeemann.com) this past Thursday. She was wonderful. Kristin saw her at Austin City Limits a week or so ago. This is the first concert I’ve been to in I don’t know how many years. At least the crowd was mostly my age. You can tell when people start to turn up their hearing aids and you can see lights shining off their balding domes. That goes for the women, too.
Mom says Henry is getting as big as a horse. She sent a picture but I couldn’t open it. Sounds like he’s going to be one big boy. No more little piles of poop like Scooter, rest his soul.
Will go to Omaha for T-day with Grandma and Grandpa. May get back there for Christmas, too, but not sure on that yet. Wouldn’t mind just vegging here, either. Heck, I may be able to play golf since they don’t close the courses down. Go to Dallas next week for banking school – ha, me a banker. That’s real. There are about 150 people on the attendee list, and they make you take tests and stuff. I’m slowly getting into the groove here at the office.
Played golf yesterday, and shot a 79. Now, if I could just putt. There’s just a ton of golf down here, and while I don’t think I’ll join a club anytime soon, I’m beginning to keep a list of the nicer courses. It will just be a lot cheaper to bounce around from course to course without paying the monthly fees. They won’t let you walk the courses. Bummer. That’s half the fun for me. As it is, I’m still working out 6 days a week. After the enormous pasta dinner I whipped up last night, I mean a real big gut-busting portion, I’ll need to work out for 4 hours tonight.
Well, gotta run. Keep me posted on going’s on. EB, your job situation for $__K sounds pretty good, if you ask me.