WHERE DOES WATER COME FROM?

I am having a conversation on Facebook involving a kid drinking water from a dipper, presumably drinking well water. The question was whether anyone had ever had water from a well.

Many people commented that yeah, they had well water, but they used glasses. Like regular people.

I said: “We have a well.” They were unimpressed. Because apparently only city water is “safe” and wells are dangerous. Everyone has city water these days unless they live in the really super deep rural wherever. Total boonies.

Really? Seriously?

Finally, I pointed out if you don’t have a well, then your town has wells. and you get your water from their wells. And pay them to pump it into your pipes. No one uses an old wooden bucket to get water from a well unless you don’t have electricity. Most places have electricity and everyone uses an electric pump, just like the city, but not as big.

So, to sum it up: Water that comes from your well is just like getting it from the city, but closer. Also, it is better water and typically, free of chemicals.


Marilyn Armstrong In the 1950s you got free glasses with your laundry detergent, so EVERYONE had glasses. If there was a dipper, it was so you could put the water into another container — like, say a pitcher? And by the way, a lot of people have wells for water. I’m just 65 miles outside Boston and everyone around here has a well. If you don’t have a well, then your TOWN has wells, so you get your water from THEIR wells. Seriously, where does everyone think water comes from?


Eventually, I pointed out that we aren’t all that rural. We’re just an hour or so outside Boston and everyone out here has a well. Which is typical of most states in New England. We have an aquifer, so when you need water, you dig a really deep hole and when you find water, install a well pump and hook it to the pipes … and voilà! Water!

That was when I asked them if they understood where water comes from.

We have an artesian well.

Do they think when you hook up to “city water,” that water magically appears through some mystical city apparatus? Do they not understand you are getting water from wells or reservoirs, but no one is “making it”? City water is water. Pumped by the city, from wells or reservoirs. After which, they put chemicals in it and send you a bill. A big bill.

I know the people in our town who get “city water” (you have to actually live in town to get “city water”) pay a bundle for it. And the water is pretty bad.

I keep hearing how daring it is to drink “raw” water. RAW water? What other kind do you drink? You mean … if it isn’t full of chlorine, you shouldn’t drink it? You know, when you buy bottled water? It comes from a well. Like ours. Sometimes, not as good as ours.

Fresh water tastes good. Our water is delicious. Ice cold because our well is deep. Clear as crystal and free of chemicals.


(But … isn’t that … dangerous?)


I haven’t heard a lot about people in the country with wells getting sick from their water. It’s cities where the water is bad.

This was one of the funniest conversations I’ve ever had on Facebook. You all know where your water comes from … right? Just checking.

MIND GAMES – BY ELLIN CURLEY

Why do I remember the name of my fourth grade teacher but can’t remember the name of the new neighbor I’m meeting for the third time this month?

Why do I fall asleep during my favorite TV show but at bedtime my brain won’t shut off for a second?

Why can I rationally know that I can handle something but I still get a knot in my stomach whenever I have to do it? (For me it’s driving around an airport).

Why is it that after I promise not to tell anyone “something”, that “something” keeps popping into my head even when I’m talking to people to whom the “something” would mean nothing?

Why do I get upset with people for doing something I know that I do too? (Like interrupting).

Why do I get totally obsessed with binge watching a TV show but never about writing a novel or working at a soup kitchen?

Why do I keep collecting recipes in a giant folder when I know I’ll never use them? (When I do try a new recipe I go online because who has the time to sort through that giant folder?)

Folders with the recipes I’ve collected over the years

Why can I look for something for 10 minutes and not find it but my husband finds it immediately – where I know I’ve already looked?

Why can I grapple with a problem and fail to find a solution, but hours later, when I’m doing something totally unrelated, the answer just pops into my head?

Why can I “zone out” while driving (you know, you suddenly find yourself way down the road and don’t remember getting there) yet I don’t drive off the road or into the car in front of me?

Why does my snoring husband insist he was “wide awake” when I poked him but you only snore when you are fully asleep?

Why is it that when I learn about a disease or syndrome, suddenly everyone I know knows someone who has it?

Why can I get sick but when I go to see the doctor, my symptoms disappear?

Why can I get a 1960’s song stuck in my head for days but not a single password has ever stayed in my brain for that long?

PLEASE COME UP WITH SOME OF YOUR OWN AND SHARE THEM WITH ME!

 

READING ON THE TOILET : A SOCIOLOGICAL ANALYSIS – BY ELLIN CURLEY

Have you ever met a woman who keeps a library in the bathroom and sits on the toilet and reads for 20-40 minutes every day? I haven’t. But my grandfather did it, my husband does it and so do the husbands of most of the women I know well enough to ask about it.

I have never understood this practice. or why is it almost exclusively men who do it. If a woman was going to read for any length of time, the last place she’d choose to spend this precious “alone time” would be on the friggin’ toilet! No woman wants a red ring around her butt when she finishes a chapter.

I think I get why, in general, men think farts are funny and women don’t. It’s because men never outgrow the scatological humor of an eight-year-old boy. I also have a theory as to why men, in general, love slapstick humor and women don’t. Since we don’t have gladiators or jousts as an outlet for male aggression, men need a form of socially acceptable violent entertainment where the pain or humiliation can be laughed at and enjoyed publicly. This also explains violent video, which are also played predominantly by men.

But — I have no clue about the etiology of reading on the toilet. Maybe it’s a way to make goofing off appear legitimate — it shouldn’t count as “me time” if you’re performing a necessary bodily function. Yet men have no trouble sitting on the sofa with a beer and watching ball games for hours or playing video games endlessly. So I think it’s unlikely that they feel a pressing need to justify their pursuit of leisure activities, as women often do.

Maybe women shouldn’t try to beat them, but join them instead. So, ladies, the next time your husband wants you to start dinner, do the laundry, feed the dogs or pick up the kids, just grab a book, run into the bathroom and shut the door. Your husband can’t question or interrupt your toilet time without threatening the sanctity of his.

Try bringing a pillow and a glass of wine in with you to make the surroundings more user-friendly and relaxing. Let’s see if two can play this potty game!

This is the sculpture and the books in my powder room

THE MYSTERY OF THE SOCKS THAT DISAPPEAR IN THE DRYER – BY ELLIN CURLEY

I’m sure that everyone wonders, once in a while, about the socks that disappear in the dryer. Where do they go? Almost daily, a pair goes in and only one comes out. I have bags of these lonely single socks sitting in the back of my closet, hoping that one day their mates will reappear.

My husband has a theory about this. He believes that the socks go to a parallel universe where people find extra socks when they do their laundry. In that world, two socks go in and three socks come out.

I like to think that somewhere in that universe the mates to my single socks are also sitting in a bag, in someone’s closet, patiently waiting for destiny to reunite them with their long-lost mates. It’s actually kind of romantic.

I asked my husband if this theory also explains the problem of the missing Tupperware. I always have too many lids and not enough bottoms, or too many bottoms and not enough lids. I wanted to know if my missing Tupperware goes to the same parallel universe as the socks. My husband looked at me as if I was crazy. Apparently that’s not possible unless I put the Tupperware in the dryer. The dryer is obviously the doorway to the wormhole that links us to the other sock universe.

The good news is that wormholes can reverse themselves (according to my husband and I’m not sure who else). Therefore it’s possible that one day we’ll start finding extra socks in the dryer and extra, superfluous Tupperware parts in our kitchen cabinets.

The upshot of all this is that I plan to hang onto my bags and boxes of single socks and mismatched Tupperware. I advise you to do the same. If we run out of space to store all this stuff, we’ll just have to find a way to move to a parallel universe that has more storage space.

IS THERE LIFE WITHOUT COMPUTERS?

You see stuff online — Facebook mostly — about “could you live in this lovely (log cabin) house (in the middle of really nowhere) without WiFi? And everyone says “Oh sure! I could live in that great little house — in the middle of a huge woods by a cold lake where the nearest shopping center is 50 miles on dirt roads — forever without so much as a VOIP phone.

Sure you could. NOT.

I know I couldn’t and wouldn’t even want to try. Because that’s not life or at least not my life.

There was a time when I could imagine a life without computers. I think that was before I owned a computer, before every house everywhere had one or many computers. Before every single thing in the house got “connected” and computerized in some way. Before your toilet got so smart you have to argue with it about the whole “flushing” thing. Before we had things in the house that you could talk to and would more or less would run your house for you, even if you weren’t there personally.

To be clear, I don’t have any of those super smart appliances because while I dearly love WiFi, if the power is out I need to know the toilet will flush anyway and the refrigerator will keep the food cold as long as I don’t open the door. I want to be smarter than my toilet or refrigerator. Call me crazy, but I like to keep at least one leg up on life.

Yeats in Sligo
Yeats in Sligo

But life without any computers? Without a way to blog? Oh, I suppose I could use a typewriter …  but what would I do with it after that? There IS no blog without WiFi. And my wrists would not thank me.

Can I survive without Photoshop and Topaz filters? Without a Kindle? Or a GPS?

That sounds more like death than life.  A computer is not just email. It’s all kinds of communications and these days, it really IS communications. Pretty much all communications is electronic in one way or another. Photography and writing. Paying bills, shopping, and entertainment. Games. Keeping in touch with the world and the people in it, without whom life would be incredibly lonesome.

So if I must have a life without computers, I am probably dead. Unless there are afterlife computers. You know, from Comp-AfterLife.com? Those “special” computers so the undead can keep in touch?

WHAT CAN I SAY ABOUT FUNNELS?

Funnels? I’ve got funnels. I’ve got three funnels in my closet. They are kitchen-style funnels. Pretty small. Medium. Larger. That’s pretty much what there is to say about funnels, unless perhaps you are a manufacturer of funnels. Then maybe it’s a much bigger deal.

Graphic funnels

I use them in the kitchen to transfer spices from bags to bottles. Yes, world, I buy spices in bulk, at least the ones I use the most.

Pen drawing of funnels

These are my artistic impressions of funnels. All three funnels. Showing also spices which I will, at some point in the future, pour through one or another funnel into a jar with a label on it.

Funnels ala Rembrandt, if he had his own funnels — in my kitchen

Otherwise, I don’t have anything to say about funnels. On the positive side of this conversation, if you think pictures are worth at least 1000 words, this is a 3,000 word article. About funnels.

ALLERGIC?

Allergic? I have a few words for you to consider:


Dust and Dog Hair.

If you don’t have a problem with either of them, wait for spring and add … POLLEN! Oh, and don’t forget autumn RAGWEED.

Anyone feel like coming and clearing our gutters and moving out those big blocks of ice and snow before the ice dams form?

No?

I thought not. I got a notice from National Grid about doing exactly that along with a few other things we can’t afford. It took me two years to find someone to clean the gutters last time. He never came back and turned out to be a big time thief, so I’m glad I didn’t pay him in advance.

Pass the tissues.