Blank Check

Hello World, Well, April is certainly charging along, and the days are obviously getting longer, there's no denying that, although the temperatures remain cooler than normal for this time of year. It hasn't seemed to affect the jaunty daffodils, which are busting out all over, and the delightfully fragrant hyacinths, as well as very early tulips, that never fail to delight. I see that the magnolia is just starting to open, and all over town there are white or pink cherry trees along the sidewalks like lovely cotton puffs. There's the usual carpet of creeping buttercups at church, and early violets are popping up everywhere you look. Last week, I even saw a caterpillar - of course he was in the house at the time, but still that has to count for something. I was about to say that next thing you know it will be dandelions, but I've already spotted them in the yard, and we all know there's no stopping them once they get going. Hard on their heels, and just as unwanted, soon we'll be dodging the menacing tentacles of rampant alien mutant poison ivy, I shouldn't wonder, and woe to the unwary. I may as well say right now, if they think I'm going in after them when they get entangled in its fearsome clutches, I'm sorry but my machete is in the shop. Fans of America's Pastime rejoiced with Opening Day on April 1, and it certainly seemed like an April Fool's prank in many ways. The local teams came north from Florida, and the first thing they did was play the San Diego Padres from southern California and the Marlins from Miami, thanks not, when I'm sure the last thing those 2 teams wanted was to be playing baseball in Queens in early April, of all things. A reasonable person would have left the Mets in Florida to play the Marlins, and then go play the Padres in San Diego instead, which would have made a lot more sense, even to the fans - and the Mets faithful are well known to be more than a little nutty after all. When they finally did go on the road, they headed even farther north (honestly, who comes up with these ideas?!) and got snowed out of Minnesota, where the pelting sleet and freezing temperatures were far from the ideal conditions that Abner Doubleday envisioned for The Boys of Summer, that's for sure. It was already snowing in Denver before they got there, and those games were snowed out too, which was probably just as well, with the 13-4 Rockies being a buzz-saw that the 8-8 Mets certainly didn't need to face. Of course it's way too soon for scoreboard watching, but the early season standings are always so entertaining, and often wildly out of whack with the long-term reality. Quick-start teams like Atlanta, Boston, and Oakland are living large in April, but might very well be fighting for their playoff lives in September, while the bottom-dwellers could turn it around and make a run for it when it counts. At that point, I'll just be glad if they're throwing baseballs and not snowballs, and don't spare the Zambonis! On the local hoops scene, both the Knicks and Nets made it into the playoffs, giving their long-suffering fans reason to cheer, however short-lived it may be. Meanwhile on the frozen front, hockey is also winding down, with a mere handful of games left to play, and then it will be playoff time there too. The tri-state area teams are still battling for playoff spots, and it could go down to the very last day. It might be a very long summer for disappointed fans in dozens of cities. On the other hand, they could feel right at home going to a baseball game in Minnesota during a snowstorm, especially if there was any significant accumulation, because you know they say that baseball is a game of inches, after all. I will not say, "in our continuing efforts to find a new nail salon," because we would have been perfectly happy to stay with the fashion-forward Russian ladies, but apparently the entire staff all left in a clump (or were banished to the Siberian salt mines for fraternization with the enemy) and we also found the descendants of Chairman Mao a bit too rough for our tastes, so once again we set off in search of yet another new nail salon to try. We found one in the shopping center with our supermarket, which was very handy and easy to get to. This one had the distinction of being the best furnished of the lot, with plenty of soft curves, mirrors and decorative columns in pale soothing colors, all the way down to the tasteful accessories. So far it's the only place we've been with no TV sets on the wall, which admittedly would have detracted from the elegance they were trying so hard to achieve. It also featured the pride of the Chinese mainland for staff, with even slouchier jeans and aprons than the last place, no makeup and hair askew in every direction like they spent the night in a barn - and for all I know, they might have done exactly that. These new ladies were marginally better than the other ones, in terms of inflicting physical punishment in the search for health and beauty - which is to say that all of their pummeling and grappling didn't leave as many obvious bruise marks that we had to explain away in the following weeks. All this would probably not have been enough to discourage us from returning for a second try, but they somehow arranged our visit there in such an inconvenient way that Bill had to wait all by himself during the entire time they were working on me, and after I was finished, I had to hang around waiting for him to be done separately, making the whole experience take at least twice as long as it really should have, with only a little better planning. They have a smiling Buddha on their counter, but I have the feeling that somewhere, the ghost of Chairman Mao is scowling. In other local news, alert readers may recall the previous week at work when the auditors implemented the Payroll Payout Audit, and all of us who usually have direct deposit, instead were presented with actual "live" paychecks that we had to take to the bank ourselves, which I personally have not done since 1989 when I first started working here, thanks not. I already knew that I was going to be busy on Sunday after church, so I figured that Bill and I could bring it to the ATM on Friday night after dinner at the diner, and be done with it. Not so fast! We drove all the way across town to HSBC, only to find that the ATM would not accept deposits, because the little deposit drawer was stuck closed and wouldn't open. I'm figuring that it was probably still working for withdrawals, otherwise a lot more people would have been complaining. I was complaining too, but only to myself, and I went home in a dour frame of mind, muttering imprecations about the double-edged sword that is modern technology, while trying to remind myself that patience is a virtue and virtue is its own reward - although I admit this gambit was much less successful than I might have hoped, alas. I was off from work the following Thursday for a far-flung doctor appointment, and took the opportunity to go back to HSBC afterwards, and give the ATM one more good old college try, hoping against hope that we could "win one for the Gipper," and actually get that check deposited in my account. Believe it or not, even though it was just about a solid week later, the ATM deposit drawer was still stuck closed, and I was turned away disappointed a second time, and none too happy about it, I can tell you that. The difference this time was that the bank was still open at this point, so I marched inside with my rejected deposit clutched in my fist - and although I hesitate to add "with eyes blazing," it can't be denied that the poor teller jumped backward when I stomped up to him, like he had been bit by a snake. I waved the check in front of him, and launched into a diatribe about the shortcomings of the ATM, and the woeful inattention of the maintenance crew charged with making sure that it was working properly for days at a time, and other such denouncements as the dinosaurs have long since gotten used to over the years. I have no doubt that he would have actually said something, if I had stopped at any point to take a breath, but what happened instead was that his mouth kept opening and closing but no words would come out, as he regarded me from a safe distance with a wariness that was just short of outright panic. But at least he took my check and deposited it in my account at long last, thus proving himself superior to faulty technology, heads and shoulders above the derelict ATM, and more than equal to my wrath - although I have the feeling that the bullet-proof glass between us played a larger part in that than either of us would care to admit. In any case, one thing that I will promise, the next time the auditors come up with some screwball scheme like this darned Payroll Payout Audit, I can tell you right now that I've got some rampant alien mutant poison ivy with their name on it, and don't forget, my machete is still in the shop. Elle