Tag Archive for: Evelyn David

The Art of Sweltering

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As I look at my checkbook balance and see how much money I spent last week to keep my central air conditioning working, I wonder how people throughout the ages dealt with excessive heat and humidity without the benefit of electricity and Freon.

No, I’m not going to research the history of the modern a/c unit. I think it’s enough to note that homeowners survived without it until the last 50 years or so. How? Last week, I only managed one hot night in my home after the a/c stopped.

The fan motor on my outside a/c unit died at noon on a Sunday. I stayed that night with my parents, enjoying their air conditioning. The next day I reclaimed my home and scheduled a visit from my a/c repair guy. He couldn’t come immediately, so I used fans and made a panicked run to Lowes for a portable a/c unit. But these were only stopgap measures until my a/c repair guy could ride in on his white horse (okay Ford F-150 truck) to save the day.

But what if I couldn’t have afforded the repair? What then? Why is a/c so vital now? Our grandparents grew up and survived without indoor air conditioning. What’s changed? Is it because of global warming? Is it that much hotter now? Maybe. But I suspect it’s more about the way buildings are designed, our proximity to our neighbors, the concrete surrounding us, and the lack of trees.

My house, built in the late 1940s with an addition tacked on in the 1970s, is close to other houses on either side. I have a very deep backyard, but not much yard on the sides. This means that if I open my windows, I have little chance of catching a breeze. I have windows on the front of my house, but the air that manages to trickle in from there, is superheated from all the concrete streets and driveways. And the backyard, where I have trees and grass, no windows on that side of the house. I think the builders were more concerned with keeping the north side sealed up and warm. They succeeded. A couple of years ago, when I had no electricity during a two week period after an ice storm, no pipes froze.

Last week when I had no a/c, the outside temps were hovering around 100 F with very high humidity levels. The temperature inside the house, before the fans and portable a/c began combating the heat, reached a sweltering 90 F with a 70 percent humidity level. (Note: I prefer an inside temperature of 70 F year round, so 90 F inside was miserable.)

I think differently about my home when the electricity is off, when the heating/cooling systems are off-line, when the cable (tv, phone, internet) is on the fritz. It feels like a betrayal. Almost like the building is a living, breathing entity that’s failed to live up to my expectations. Very disappointing. I’m sure this relationship will work itself out, but right now … sigh.

My a/c is again pumping out cool air, although struggling around 3 p.m. when the heat index is the worst. I hold my breath when the temps in the house start to rise, fearful that the overtaxed unit will die again. Around 8 p.m. the unit catches up and all is well, but it’s hard to rebuild trust.

Fall weather can’t come too soon for me.

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David

Ch-Ch-Changes

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With a tip of the hat to Dreamgirls, picture both halves of Evelyn David warbling, “We are ch-ch-changing.” Maybe not quite so dramatic, but in fact, there’s a whole lot of change going on in the Evelyn David households.

Here’s the takeaway, as they say in the news biz:

Murder Drops the Ball, the third in the Sullivan Investigations Series, will be published next spring by our new publisher, Wolfmont Press!

Cue, fireworks!

The past twelve months have been a roller coaster ride, both personally and professionally. We both had health issues, which are now behind us (but let’s add a poo, poo, just to be safe). We had family issues (some exceptionally wonderful like Ms. Riley, who made the Northern half of this writing duo, a Grandma!). And then there were the hard decisions of what do we want to do next professionally.

Some of the questions and answers we faced as we made our decision?

Do we both still like to write mysteries? Yep, you bet.

Do we still want to write mysteries together? Absolutely, no question – heck, in truth, if we’re not writing them together, we’re not writing them.

And finally, with respect and gratitude to our first publisher who first believed in us, nonetheless, was it time for a change? And the answer was a sad yes.

We are so pleased to be working with Tony Burton, owner of Wolfmont Press and Honey Locust Press. Many of you know Tony from the wonderful charity mystery anthologies he creates each year, funneling thousands of dollars to Toys for Tots, and this year, hopefully for Homes for Our Troops. Tony is also Vice President of the Southeast Mystery Writers of America – and an author himself.

Here’s the plan. The Kindle editions (as well as e-book editions for the Nook and the i-Pad) are already available for Murder Off the Books and Murder Takes the Cake. The new print edition of Murder Off the Books (with a new cover) is now available at Amazon. The new print edition of Murder Takes the Cake will be out this winter.

Then next spring, Mac, Rachel, Whiskey and the gang are back in Murder Drops the Ball. It’s New Year’s eve and the body count is rising – while the temperatures fall. There’s a story to die for, humor to make you laugh out loud, the characters you love, and Whiskey, full of sass and an insatiable appetite.

In the meantime, we’ve got a fun contest for you. Thanks to Tony we made one change in the story to Murder Off the Books. We’re grateful for his expertise and readily agreed to the revision. The first three people who identify the change will receive a free copy of the new edition of Murder Takes the Cake.

In the midst of all this Ch-Ch-Changing, one thing remains constant: Evelyn David is here to stay!

Enjoy!

Evelyn David

Great Expectations

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I’m old enough to remember going outside and turning an antenna pole to tune in a television channel. If we were lucky we got all three networks and a fuzzy PBS station. We had one television and it wasn’t a color one until I was in the third grade – or maybe the fourth. I’m not sure now. I do remember the screen. It was round. The remote control was the youngest child being ordered by Dad to get up off the sofa and change the channel. Surfing didn’t happen.

When I was in the seventh grade neighbors told us about cable tv and something called “Home Box Office.” I was fascinated with the idea of being able to see a movie anytime you wanted. The miracle of video tape recorders happened while I was in college. Not that I could afford one. Who knows what kind of degree I would have had, if I hadn’t been required to schedule classes around my daily viewing of Ryan’s Hope.

Today I own three televisions, all with remote controls (the ones you put batteries in), two dvd players, one leased dvr, and a couple of outdated vhs recorders. I also have digital cable with more channels than I can watch. One would think I should be happy with my tv viewing experience.

One would be wrong.

It’s all about expectations.

When I was a child I was happy to run outside in the freezing rain and turn a metal pole so I could watch a grainy black and white episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents on a 20-inch screen. I didn’t expect more.

Today I pay big money to watch too-many-to-count digital cable programs on a 42-inch, high definition, color, flat screen television. And in exchange for my investment in expensive equipment and hefty cable bills, I expect perfection. Or at least the ability to view an entire episode of America’s Got Talent without pixilation (the image scrambling) and the sound dropping out every ten seconds.

Yes, I’m coming off a week of dealing with the dreaded, despised, cable tv company. I know some of you feel my pain.

My first sign of trouble was a couple of months ago when the “cable company provided” (and required for HD channels) dvr started randomly turning itself off and then rebooting. This happened without warning when I’d use the remote to access the menu/guide, change channels, or – hey, sometimes I’d just look at the remote funny and it would take offense and shut off.

This happened once or twice a month – not enough to make that “pain in the you know what” service call. But last week, the problem escalated to three or four meltdown events a day. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. Plus the pixilation and sound problems began interfering with watching any HD channel. I was paying for an expensive “something” that I wasn’t getting – and you can imagine how I felt about that.

The cable company claimed to be there to help and would send a technician out between 10 and 2 the next day. Since this wasn’t my first rodeo, when they asked for a contact phone number, I gave them my cell number. Cell phones are wonderful tools in dealing with the cable company. Remember when you used to wait at home all day for the cable guy to show up? And since they never wanted to waste a service call on someone who wasn’t home, you’d have to sit next to the phone, ready to take that all important verification call? Remember when after eight hours of waiting and they didn’t show up, you complained? And remember when the cable company’s response was that the cable guy called before coming out and you didn’t answer, so they cancelled the appointment? And remember the rage and helplessness you felt at their lie? Evil, I tell you. Pure evil. Today, cell phones with call logs have changed the cable customer’s world.

So at 2:30 pm that day, the cable guy rang the doorbell. (Note: he was only 30 minutes outside my appointment time). He looked at the reception on the television – a little pixilation was all that was occurring. He started the “nothing wrong here” and “you’ve got to expect a little flickering” speech. I showed him what I had recorded from the night before – the episode of Rookie Blue where the sound for every other word was dropped and whole scenes were unwatchable. He told me he couldn’t do anything since the problem wasn’t happening currently. I could sense him inching his way backwards, towards the door. I protested. He started the “I could schedule another appointment” if the problem returned, when a miracle happened. The dvr box shut off and rebooted. Right in front of him. He stared at the tv. I sent up a prayer of silent thanks. There may have been some hand pumping. The cable guy sighed, defeated. His apology for implying I was crazy consisted of, “It’s not supposed to do that.”

So, happy ending right? Not exactly. Although I had complained about the dvr when I scheduled the service call and requested a new one, the cable guy hadn’t brought one with him. But since he now had to do something, he went outside, climbed a ladder, checked a connection and reported it loose, but now fixed. I inquired about the dvr. He told me to call the cable company and tell them the technician said I needed a new dvr.

He left. I made the call. Two days and another vacation day wasted later, I had a new dvr. That evening the pixilation and sound problems were the worst it had ever been. Murder did cross my mind but reason prevailed. Third time was always a charm, right?

I called and scheduled a third service call for Saturday morning, all the while wondering what kind of television reception I might get with an outside antenna on a pole. They still make those, right?

Conclusion: On Friday night my cable reception mysteriously improved 100 percent. Picture was better than it had ever been. Sound was perfect. Something had happened – maybe divine intervention again. More likely a service call in the neighborhood fixed the problem. Tempting fate, I cancelled my service call. I hope the reception is good for tonight. New episodes of The Closer and the debut of Rizzoli and Isles airs on TNT.

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David

Happy Birthday America

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Early in the 20th century, my grandfather Mendel left Russia knowing he would never see his parents again. He came to America, to New York, and like many recent immigrants, became a peddler. My great-grandfather invited him home for lunch after Sabbath services and introduced him to his daughter, Rachel Esther. In a nice ironic twist for this blog, my grandmother was born on the 4th of July, a genuine American beauty.

As the story unfolds, Mendel and Rachel were married and moved to Lancaster, South Carolina, then a small quiet town (now an outlying suburb for Charlotte, North Carolina). They opened the town’s mercantile (general store) and began raising their eight sons and daughters, one of which was my mother, the original Evelyn. They were the only Jewish family in the town, but my mother never recounted a single tale of anti-semitism. Her best friend, Lib Ferguson, would take my mother to Tent Revival Meetings – and she loved all the drama and energy she’d find on those evenings. It was an idyllic childhood, with high-spirited siblings and bountiful family dinners. One by one, my grandfather’s brothers immigrated to America, and each would open a mercantile in yet another small Southern town.

I’m in awe of my grandfather’s courage. He embarked on an adventure without a clear roadmap of where he was going or how he would live. Granted, life in Russia was bleak. He would have been conscripted into the Russian army and his hometown was the target of anti-semitic pogroms. So he chose the unknown over the known because America was the land of freedom and opportunity, neither of which he would find in his native land. We need to remind ourselves about that truth on not only this holiday weekend, but also on those days when there are no fireworks and no red, white, and blue bunting draped on the porches of homes across this great land.

Our country is far from perfect, but the foundation of this nation is as close to perfection as humans can get. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

That’s what my grandfather sought when he crossed the Atlantic in search of a new homeland. It’s what we still must strive to attain.

Happy Birthday America.

Marian, the Northern half of Evelyn David

Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David

Vacation Anyone?

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I Know I Need a Vacation When ….

  1. I have trouble remembering what day of the week it is.
  2. I can’t even tolerate listening to the politicians with whom I agree. (To my Southern ears the phrase “with whom” grates, but I’ll try to dumb down the rest of my list.)
  3. I’m fascinated by reality tv – in particular Ice Road Truckers and Billy the Exterminator. (See that dumbing down thing is easy.)
  4. Book promotion feels like pulling teeth. (Okay it always feels that way to me, but at the moment it feels like having my wisdom teeth removed again – the way it was done 30 years ago – strapped down in the dentist chair with your mouth jacked open with some kind of rubber bracing. Only the dentist and the people in the adjacent buildings could hear the screams.)
  5. I’ll eat my Cheerios dry rather than make a trip to the grocery store.
  6. I resent having to explain “why” more than once. (Yes, I know. That’s just me getting old and cranky – taking a vacation won’t help.)
  7. I’m happy when I get one item on my “to-do” list done each day. Today I changed my central air conditioning filter. I had to use a flashlight to illuminate the operation since replacing the light bulb in the hallway would have just been too much effort. Maybe tomorrow.
  8. The highlight of the week is putting all my extra red pepper flake packets from Pizza Hut deliveries into a Tupperware container instead of stuffing them in a kitchen drawer to wander and breed with the Parmesan cheese and soy sauce packets.
  9. I seriously consider stocking up on disposable plates and cups so I never have to wash dishes again. (Along with this thought was a fleeting urge to toss all the dirty dishes in the trash and start over with new stuff. Lack of money and the fear my mother would find out held me back.)
  10. Even the Gulf Coast beaches with the floating tar balls and oily birds look like good places to park a lounge chair.

On a Serious Note: I’ve been to the Gulf Coast several times – New Orleans, Gulf Port, Biloxi, Ship Island, etc. It hurts to think about the damage the oil is causing to the environment and to the people who are losing a way of life. I hope the leaking oil well is plugged soon and we – the nation – find a way to prevent any similar environmental disasters in the future. I know we need the oil – but we have to protect our oceans and marshes too.

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David

A Miracle is Born

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Blessed are You Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has kept us alive, and has preserved us, and allowed us to reach this season.

I murmured the prayer over and over again late Friday afternoon, June 4. It was, for me, nothing short of a miracle. Riley Giselle, was born and poof, I was a Grandma. In some ways, the joy was greater than when I first became a mother. Then all the love and excitement was tinged with fear: Was I up to the job of taking care of a small wonderful child? Now, my only job was to love, love, love her. Somebody else would figure out how to pay for college!

Like most teenage girls, I had “issues” with my mother. I knew, heavens I was certain, that I would do things differently. As my own children reached adolescence, however, I found myself setting the same standards that my own mother had demanded. As Mark Twain so aptly put it, “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.” It took me a little longer, but ah yes, I discovered just how smart my mother really was.

But from the moment that my first child was born, I was in awe of both my mother and my in-laws as grandparents. My own dad sadly never got to meet my kids. But Grandma, Nana, and Pop-Pop had such bottomless love for each of their grandchildren. Their patience was limitless, but of course, even seven days into this grandparenting gig, I now realize that patience is easier when you can hand the little bundle back at the end of the day.

Alex Haley once said, “Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children.” I like even better, and that may be the foodie in me, the quote I found, source unknown, who said, “Grandmas are moms with lots of frosting.”

But most of all, I am giddy, thrilled, and feeling so incredibly blessed that Riley Giselle is now in my life.

Just call me Grandma, the Northern half of Evelyn David

A Change of Pace

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I’m not whining. Really, I’m not.

But I hate unloading the dishwasher. I don’t mind loading it. Heck, I don’t even mind washing dishes by hand. But I can’t stand opening the dishwasher door, with the unexpected steam facial, and putting away all the clean plates and silverware.

I know in the scope of tough things in life, this doesn’t even qualify to make the list. I should be grateful (I am) to have a dishwasher. I should be grateful (I am) that I have food to make those dishes dirty in the first place.

But after a million years of marriage (all wonderful, I assure you), and raising four kids (to steal from Garrison Keillor, all good looking and above average) – I am tired of household chores. Sure whoever is at home helps, but I’m still the captain of this cruise ship. Absolutely, my husband does more than his fair share (he’d probably argue that it’s waaaay more than his fair share), but let’s just agree to disagree.

But unless we’re prepared to eat takeout food on paper plates with plastic forks (and risk the wrath of “save the earth fans” the world over) – I’m looking for some invention (or person) to do the following tasks:

1. Unload the dishwasher and put away the contents in a timely fashion (within an hour of the completion of its cycle). This is to avoid the “who can wait longest to see if somebody else will do the job.”

2. Carry upstairs from the basement and distribute to the appropriate drawers, all the clean laundry I’ve done. I point out that it doesn’t count if you merely plop the clean clothes on the bed, to be pushed to the floor before crawling into the sheets, which will necessitate either refolding or washing the clothes again because the dog with the muddy feet has walked on them.

3. Put away the groceries. I don’t mind shopping for food, sometimes at more than one store to get the best bargain, I’ll even lug the bags into the house. But I hate to put the foodstuffs away. Yes, there is a pattern here. I sometimes fantasize that if I only had a walk-in pantry, then putting away dishes and groceries would be a snap. But since I don’t have a pantry, walk-in or otherwise, putting these things away involves much squeezing and rearranging, always doubling the time of the original task.

4. Iron tablecloths and t-shirts. Yes, I know about wrinkle-free tablecloths, but mine are never unwrinkled and if I’m going to the trouble of putting a cloth on the dining room table, it’s an occasion and should look nice. When I iron, it does not….look nice. Same for summer t-shirts which are grabbed right out from the dryer and still look like they have shrunk two sizes, with permanent creases. (Of course, as a writer, I never see anyone so who cares).

5. Mark the sheets so that it’s clear which way they fit. On a twin, this is never a problem, but on our Queen-sized bed, I inevitably put the bottom fitted sheet on the wrong way and have to start over again. I’d also add that I’d like sheets that didn’t pill or shrink – and as long as I’m asking, I’d like someone else to put them on the bed in the first place. Actually, to take a step back, I’d also like someone else to fold all fitted bottom sheets, a task I’ve reduced to rolling them up in balls because I can’t get them to fold flat.

What chores would you like to dump, er, exchange with a loved one?

Marian

Books in Waiting (or the pile on my sofa)

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Some of you know I just had eye surgery on both eyes. It’s been a long six months of weaning myself off my gas permeable contact lenses so that the eye surgeon could figure out what strength of corrective lens to implant. During this process, I haven’t had great vision and haven’t read very much for pleasure. But now the surgery is over, my eyes have healed, and I can see again!!! I’m ready to dive back into the wonderful world of reading.

I have a nice stack of books on my sofa. These are the books I have just read, or I’m currently reading, or I intend to read over the summer. Of course as soon as I pick one of them up, I feel guilty for not spending the time writing. Oh, well, I’ll just have to deal with the guilt.

Damaged by Alex Kava
I had never read any of Ms. Kava’s novels before but I really enjoyed this advance copy. Wonderful characters and lots of excitement as the serial killer is tracked. I love the female Coast Guard rescue swimmer character and hope this wasn’t her last appearance.

Rules of Betrayal by Christopher Reich
I’m hoping to read this thriller soon. The plot involving a Doctors Without Borders surgeon and his double agent wife sounds great!

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest – all by Stieg LarssonI may be one of the few who haven’t read these books, but I’m determined to cure that oversight this summer. I’m just a few pages into the first of the three, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, but I’m hooked.

Last week I went shopping in a real brick & mortar bookstore for books for my Dad’s birthday gift. I found him a non-fiction book about George Custer’s last stand and two thrillers whose titles escape me at the moment. The important part of this story – (insert smile) is that I also found a couple of books for me. Isn’t that amazing the way that works? I encourage everyone to shop for gifts in bookstores. I purchased The Ark by Boyd Morrison – a mystery concerning the search for Noah’s Ark. I’m about a chapter into it. So far someone has tried to kill the heroine twice in three days. I’m seeing a pattern and suspect foul play. I also bought the wonderful Nancy Pickard’s The Scent of Rain and Lightning. I read her last one set in Kansas and loved her writing. I’m anticipating great things from this new book!

How about you? What are you reading? What do you plan to read this summer?

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David

New York, New York

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New York City is a magical place filled with wonderful museums, a vibrant theater community, and, as the old television show reminded us, “eight million stories in the Naked City.” It’s a tourist delight, a writer’s treasure trove – and a terrorist target.

I live outside the city, in a quiet suburb about 20 miles from Times Square. I vividly remember September 11, 2001 – and the consuming fear of not knowing for sure where my husband, loved ones, and friends were during those chaotic hours. This time was different. I didn’t hear about this latest threat until Sunday morning, many hours after the event, but the emotions slipped right back into place.

A quick recap: On Saturday night, someone tried to detonate a car bomb in Times Square. If the twin towers of the World Trade Center were seen as symbols for America’s wealth, surely Times Square represents the heart of the people of this great city. Walk through the crowded streets that surround this iconic corner of New York, and you see rich and poor, every color of mankind, young, old, tourists and citizens, all intent on soaking in the energy of the city. It is the center of the theater district and on Saturday night, the shows went dark, as audiences were evacuated. The Lion King, the long-running musical made from the Disney cartoon, was the first to cancel the performance. Tickets for this show, a delight for families and especially young children, are still, after all these years in production, in such demand that there is months-long wait before you can purchase an evening of enchanting theater.

Saturday night, Mayor Bloomberg flew back from the annual Correspondents dinner in Washington, DC, where the jokes and the liquor flowed freely, to deal with this latest danger. He said pointedly, “Terrorists around the world feel threatened by the freedoms we have in this country and want to take our freedoms away from us. (That’s why) they always focus on the symbol of that freedom, and that is New York City.”

It’s trite, but true, that we can’t let them win. When the lights go out on Broadway, it shutters the freedom of expression that is the hallmark of a free society. It closes the feel-good-musicals that have us humming when we leave the theater – as well as the intense, drama-filled plays that make us think about issues long after the last curtain call.

My suspicion is that this will not be a foreign terrorist plot. I suspect it’s another homegrown thug, like Timothy McVeigh, with an agenda that has no respect for human life. It’s less than two weeks after the anniversary of the Oklahoma City Bombing. Homegrown terrorism is, in some ways, harder to stomach than foreign invasions. These are men and women who are permitted to espouse ideas that are an anathema to the very being of our country. But our land thrives because we permit them to speak these hateful thoughts – but they are not permitted to act on them. Your right to speak loathsome concepts ends when you act upon them (or push others to act in your stead).

New York City police understand the constant daily threat that faces this phenomenal city. But in every town, village, and hamlet of our great nation, it’s up to each one of us to help our local law enforcement keep us safe. If you see something, say something. Had a t-shirt vendor in New York City not spoken up on Saturday night, the tragedy that might have ensued is too hard to even contemplate.

The photo at the top of this blog appeared in Life Magazine. It caught a couple in Times Square, celebrating with a kiss the end of World War II. If only this current war on terrorism could have such a definitive ending.

God Bless America.

Marian, the Northern half of Evelyn David

Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com

The Good Stuff in the News!

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I’m ready to spend some time talking about “Good News.” Let’s talk heroes, good deeds, major accomplishments, and random acts of kindness.

I was impressed this week with the story of the James King who found the missing eleven-year-old-girl in the Florida swamp. He said God led him straight through the mud, thigh-high waters, alligators, and dense vegetation to Nadia Bloom. Nadia has Asperger’s Syndrome and had been missing four days. Since during the last ten years or so, I’ve become very cynical, my first thought was not to praise the rescuer but to want an full accounting of his whereabouts in the days leading up to him “finding” the child. The thing about enjoying “good news” is you have to be willing to accept it at face value. So until it’s proven otherwise, I’m willing to accept this as a miracle and a selfless act by a concerned citizen who had nothing to do with the girl’s disappearance.

Actor Sean Penn continues to be relentless in his quest to save lives in Haiti. Rainy season is almost here and survivors are still living without real tents in areas where mudslides will almost certainly occur. Like his movies or not, he cares about the world.

L.A. Lakers player Pau Gasol gave up some time to make a 4-year-old fan, Ezra Frech very happy. Ezra was born with malformed limbs on his left side. He has an artificial leg that allows him to play basketball. He loves, loves, loves basketball. And he’s very good at it!

On a personal note – my good news is that as of last week I’ve finished with surgery on both eyes and can now drive without contact lens or glasses! Alas, reading and working on the computer will still require corrective lenses of some kind. I’ve got a dozen pairs of drugstore reading glasses in various strengths that I’m using until I’m cleared by the surgeon to visit the optometrist.

What’s your favorite “good news?”

Rhonda (wearing a 2.0 magnification for computer work).
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David