A friend’s refrigerator went out last week after only seven years of use. According to an appliance guy, that was about right.

I can remember having the same avacodo green refrigerator in our kitchen for umpteen years. It wasn’t really bad when we got rid of it; it was just so old that it was a pretty good bet it would give out over the weekend or at some other inopportune time. It was relegated to the garage and a shiny new one took its place.

The same can be said for the range top. It was set in the countertop and had a really cool control panel on the wall. A modern, black, flat cook top took its place and come to find out, its life expectancy is only about seven years. The old cook top made it through 20-some years before it became a questionable risk. It even survived through a small Christmas Eve fire when I left papers a little too close to a burner and a button was inadvertently pushed by an errant item on the counter. Luckily, the mess was quickly swept into the nearby sink and doused with water.

Many other household items have joined the “disposable” list. Washers and dryers, DVD players, boom boxes, TVs and like are no longer “fixtures” in our homes.
It makes me wonder if they are not made as well, if we as consumers have directed the “need” for newer and better every few years. With technology outpacing itself, there is always something faster, better and on the “must-have” list. Computers are practically obsolete by the time we get everything out of the box and set up.

None of our teens own cassette tapes. Wonder what they would think of the 8-tracks I have tucked away from a “few” years back.

We are keeping up with the Joneses, who are keeping up with someone else and so on. Along the way, we have given up reliability, consistency and the satisfaction of getting our money’s worth.

We don’t seem to mind shelling out our hard-earned cash for something that we will be eagerly replacing again in a few years for the latest and greatest model.
The switch on the wall lamp in the spare bedroom took a dive the other day. That lamp has hung on the wall for as long as I can remember. I’m seriously considering  having it fixed.

I don’t know how closely you have been following a couple of cases but my husband and I have found Jodi Arias fascinating. She looks like the girl next door. However, don’t be fooled. She stabbed her ex-boyfriend 30 times, shot him in the face and slit his throat.

She lied twice, saying at first she wasn’t there, then ninjas did it and then she claimed self-defense.
Ninjas? Really?
No. Not really.

I have watched her try to explain why all the lies if it was self-defense and even saw a new “friend” say anyone who is scared lies. Really?
No. Not really.

I’ve heard her describe their relationship and say she feared for her life even though they were broken up at the time and he allegedly planned to take another woman to Mexico.

DEAR EDITOR:

I defended you. I worked on your first campaign. In the rain, in the snow and in the cold I went door to door campaigning for you. I debated others who jeered and belittled you. I acknowledged your short comings but defended your stances. I didn’t always agree with everything you said or did. I didn’t like when you went back on your promise to close Guantanamo Bay. I was angered that you called Ahmadinejad after his farce of win, when all other world leaders refused. I haven’t agreed with your policies in Iraq but still I defended you. I didn’t agree with all aspects of your budget, but I did commend the fact that you finally were putting the unaccounted for wars into the budget, I applauded your call for transparency in government. I cringed when I learned you didn’t mean it for yourself. But yet, I still defended you.

I cheered with approval on how you supported the rights of women and your monumental stance on gay rights. I couldn’t believe that after all your anti-Bush statements that you continued to not only infringe on American rights by using the Patriot Act, you also continued our human rights violating tactics used by the previous administration. I defended you against ignorant and racist comments. I defended many of your actions because you have faced and dealt with more disasters than any other president in history.

I defended you during the second election. I was disenchanted but I knew your social stances were a step forward when your opponents were from a previous era. I knew that the same corporations were funding both of you but yet I still believed in you. I defended you when others called you a socialist. I wouldn’t have cared if you were in fact Muslim because religious affiliation, in this country, should not matter. I died inside watching the death toll rise on innocent civilians that were considered “collateral damage” by way of drone strikes.

I defended you even though you have continued and increased the endless folly that is our drug war and your extension of that to raiding and putting pressure on honest citizens. I felt pity as you made endless promises to the Latino community, only to drop the hammer harder on them than before. I defended you when people clutched their Bibles and guns when you proposed sensible gun legislation. I was stunned when you signed the National Defense Authorization Act. I have defended you more times than I can count.

After 9/11 President Bush stood on the precipice, one decision could’ve place him firmly in the annuals of history as a great president who rose above hatred and ignorance. Sadly he chose the latter. He should’ve been impeached. His cabinet and Vice President Cheney should’ve been brought before the world court to answer for their war crimes. You too had that moment. You have constantly tried to show the American people that you are relatable and now you’ve proven it. You’re just like the previous president, just like the previous administration. The audacity that you now openly boast about using drones strikes against American citizens is above and beyond reproach.

At one point I would’ve been proud and honored to meet you; to shake your hand. But you have severely marred our flag and the memory of what it stood for. Any good you do now is just noise falling upon deaf ears.

I defended you. And you Mr. President have failed me, you have failed us.

A disenfranchised citizen,

James Ferda

Somewhere on my bucket list was a cruise. It was penciled in because I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to go on a big boat and hang out in the ocean. I’ve heard good and bad. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to be “tied” to a ship on vacation. I sometimes have issues with that.

After the Carnival Triumph story of an engine fire, malfunctioning bathrooms, lack of food and the smells, I think I’ll just erase that line on my list.

The ship was “dead” in the water for five days. It has been said passengers were fighting over food, urinating in showers, doing the other in plastic bags and sleeping on the top deck because it was too hot and stinky anywhere else. One report said there were 5 working toilets for 4,200 people.

It was also believed there was no electricity or air conditioning on board. That means no ventilation. No air moving. No way to move smells out of cabins and off decks.

Yikes!

Yeah, that’s my idea of a vacation.

Carnival is saying conditions were exaggerated. I’m not sure if I care. Even if a tenth of what passengers were saying happened did occur, I’m still outta there. And why would passengers make those reports up. If I’m talking to someone or texting a family member, I’m just going to tell it like it is. If anything, I may try to make it sound a little better than it is so they don’t worry.

I think this incident just goes to show that no matter what you plan, you are at the mercy of someone or something else. You can plan to fly somewhere and flights can be delayed and canceled for a variety of reasons. You can plan to drive and your car can break down or there may be an accident. You can decide to stay home and some other happenstance can cause the plans to go awry.

I guess how you determine if you still have a good time is the degree of uncomfortableness and if you can rise above the hardship.

I’m not sure that was going to happen on the Triumph. Things just went too far. Things were just too much. There was stuff in plastic bags, for God’s sake. Oh my goodness!

Anyway, now I have room for something else on my list. I’m not sure what it will be right off-hand but I’m sure I’ll figure it out. I just know what it won’t be — a cruise.

Here it is halfway through February already.

There are still several things that went on my to-do list earlier in the year yet to be checked off.

As I write this, I am surrounded by paper. It’s on my left, on my right, all around me. Arrrg!

I cleared out a file drawer last January and had the best intentions of cleaning up some but now all I see are bigger piles of agendas and the like. Yikes! I better get busy.

Time just seems to slip away. I start working on something and I tell myself I’ll get to the filing when I’m done and then something else comes up and then the phone rings and then someone asks me a question and the next thing I know, I’m jetting out the door and it didn’t get done.

It’s probably going to take a Saturday or Sunday afternoon to accomplish this task. I’ll just pencil that right in. I make a list, sometimes daily, with the most important things I want to accomplish at the top. Well, my messy desk doesn’t seem to make it anywhere on that list. Maybe I’ll have a few minutes after I get this column done to tuck a few things away in a file. Then again, probably not.

Let’s check that list for Monday. Hmmm. I don’t believe I see filing on there at all. How odd. It needs done. Why isn’t it on the list?

Things seem to go that way at home, too. For example: I have two drawers at home with old paid bills, letters, cards, etc. I finally got that all-important “Round-tuit” and cleaned one out. I sorted and filed and filled shoe boxes and shredded — and repeat. Now it is home to my pajamas and where they were is now where my purses are and where they were is Christmas stuff I don’t want in the basement. Whew.

The second drawer? Don’t ask.

There was a sign on my mother’s desk at the Marathon station and subsequently at the garage on Pierce Street. It read, “Don’t touch my mess! I know where everything is.”

For the most part, the same is true of my desk at work. I can usually lay my hands on something in pretty short order. Sometimes, not so much.

Hey. Where did that list go?