When It Comes To Blogging, Sometimes I Wonder About You People…

October 6, 2015August 29, 2018 / Ally Bean / 30 Comments

ACCORDING TO THE stats provided by WordPress, the following is when you, my gentle readers, most often show up here to read The Spectacled Bean.

I’m happy to have loyal readers, make no mistake. Fans, followers and lurkers are good. But as much as I enjoy writing and connecting with you, I’m a little nonplussed about the day and time that you are most likely to be here.

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AS THE FOLLOWING shows, this is a blog written by an well-meaning, but slightly scattered, writer, who according to Typealyzer, is an artist. This, I do believe, explains how it is that I started to write this post, intending to publish it today, Tuesday, at 8:00 am, but failed to do so, thereby risking the chance of disappointing you, my gentle readers.

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SO I ASK of you, my gentle readers, what say ye about showing up here, oh say, an hour later– at 9:00 am? And allowing for the possibility that Wednesday or Thursday make lovely most popular days of the week?

Not that I want to be the sort of blogger who tells you what to do, but I think you people are crazy. Tuesday? [Tolerable, if we must.] 8:00 am? [Decidedly uncivilized.]

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A Camellia In My Hair. If Only It Was That Simple.

August 11, 2015August 11, 2015 / Ally Bean / 36 Comments

Click here for more style advice.

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I am a hypocrite.

If you choose to walk away from this blog and never read another thing here, I understand. No one wants to follow a hypocrite.

Even a sincere, idealistic, middle-aged poser such as myself.

You see, for YEARS I’ve said to anyone who’d listen, that when the time came, when the moment arrived, when faced with THE DECISION, I’d go forward.

Boldly.

Into the unknown with head held high.

I would not weasel out of the truth by using chemical substances to cover the obvious. I would allow myself to go gray.

Naturally.

But last week, while getting my hair highlighted and cut, my stylist asked me, WITHOUT SO MUCH AS ONE WORD OF WARNING, if I was ready to go gray now.

She told me that underneath the two-tone highlights for which I pay a fortune, my natural hair color is 50% gray. Meaning that if I wanted to, I could stop the highlights, save money and go gray.

But without one moment of thought, throwing aside all my highfalutin talk about aging gracefully, I shouted: NO. I WANT TO BE BLONDE.

Make me blonde, please.

And so it came to be that my hypocritical nature came to light. Loud & clear. And I walked away from the salon with silvery golden blonde hair.

New Year’s Resolution, Mid-Year Clarification Of Said

July 10, 2015February 11, 2016 / Ally Bean / 11 Comments

AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS…

Yes, I know that I declared 2015 to be the Year of the Recluse.

I know that I said that I’d not be doing things social. But sometimes, even an introvert such as myself, wants to do something with a friend or two.

So I’m a failure at following through with my New Year’s Resolution. Like you’re so good at doing in July that which you said that you’d do in January?

Hmmm? How are you doing with your resolutions?

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To clarify, when I said that I’d be a recluse this year what I meant was that I was going to avoid reunions, anniversary/holiday dinners, birthday bashes– and having a Christmas party here at the house.

[That last one in particular.]

So when it comes to those sorts of things, I’m a recluse. But when it comes to other activities I’m kinda out there socializing all over the place this year.

Well, I’m always kinda out there, but you know what I mean!

…AND NOW BACK TO OUR SHOW

My Unhappy Story Of Flying Trapped Inside A MRI With Wings

June 25, 2015June 25, 2015 / Ally Bean / 37 Comments

Seating chart for MRI with wings.

While on vacation last weekend, I spent one leg of my travels on a flight from hell, trapped inside a MRI with wings. This would be a plane that is known to aviators as a Bombardier CRJ 200.

This airplane, while not the smallest one I’ve ever flown on, was the worst flying MRI I’ve experienced because– and I hope that I’m not going to get too technical here— THERE WAS NO AIR CONDITIONING AS WE WAITED AT THE GATE AND THEN ON THE TARMAC FOR TAKEOFF… ON A HOT SUMMER DAY… AT MIDDAY.

I’d love to tell you what airline I was on, but I’m not sure. It was some pokey little airline, doing business under some obscure name, for some larger, formerly independent, airline recently acquired by some huge US airline.

In other words, the usual inane flying experience that I’ve come to know, pay exorbitant amounts of money for and loathe.

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As fate would have it two things occurred simultaneously while I was on this flight from hell trapped inside a MRI with wings.

First of all, I had a hot flash.

To be clear, that would be my body spontaneously increasing its core temperature while I was sitting in the middle of the airplane, Seat 7C, where the ambient room temperature was close to 100ºF.

Trapped, I was.

And so far beyond toasty that I could barely keep conscious. I could see my vision begin to tunnel– and I knew that I would faint, unless I thought of something fast.

So I shut my eyes, let my head droop and begin to remember how cold and bleak it was on our screened-in porch in February, when I’d step out there for a bit of fresh air, mid-afternoon, with my mug of hot tea.

Oddly enough this mental distraction kept me from passing out and it gave me an opportunity to decide that, if I lived to tell the story, I’d call out the airline on this unconscionable, unhealthy, inhumane, ridiculous, shameful, cheap-ass behavior.

Didn’t their mothers teach these airline PTB to not treat other human beings as chattel? Hmmm?

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Actual MRI, similar to Bombardier CJR 200.

This would be the end of the story if it weren’t for the man next to me on the flying MRI with wings from hell who was an employee of one of the airlines that was part of the afore-mentioned cluster.

And he was taking notes. Lots of them.

For real.

And he was telling me EVERYTHING that this flight crew was doing that was wrong, that was illegal according to FAA standards, and that was just plain stupid.

So despite being the most physically and emotionally uncomfortable I’ve been on an airplane in decades, I had the pleasure of knowing that this flight crew, a bunch of yahoos who really should be ashamed of themselves, were going to get in trouble.

AS IN FAILING TO PASS INSPECTION. JOBS ON THE LINE. HELLO REVIEW BOARD [I CAN ONLY HOPE].

It is because of this note-taking man that I can look back on this flight as a learning experience for the crew as well as for me. To wit, I will never, ever in a hundred years set foot inside a Bombardier CRJ 200 again.

And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t either.