Audio-book?

 

Hayter for March 23, 2025

“Turning Little,Dizzy into an audio-book?”

            I’ve come up with an idea as to how to spend my downtime. If you missed last week’s article, it was about Brad Meyer ruining my hip so that I have to get a replacement. It will be about two months before my leg will heal enough for me to dance. It will take at least eight months after that for me to learn to dance.

            During my healing process, I am hoping to turn my recent novel into an audio-book. I’m currently reading aloud to myself, because it’s easier for me to catch my mistakes while I’m actually saying the words. I don’t know why that is, but it works.  Plus by reading it aloud to myself it prepares for the time when I record it.

            By turning my novel into an audio-book, I actually wouldn’t even need anyone to edit the thing, because it will be me talking. And, let’s face it, I’m not dumb enough to ruin my novel by reading all of my misspellings and messed up sentences.  

            Yesterday, I got on YouTube and listened for 45 minutes to a guy explaining how to  personally turn your written novel into an audio-book. The young man tried to be as helpful as possible, but he had no idea who was listening to him. I couldn't understand  half of what he said. There are a lot of weird words used in the field of audio recording.

             What I did catch onto was the fact that while recording you’ve got to put padding all around your room or closet so you won’t pick up any background noise from inside and outside the house. Stuff like Kay asking me I stole her sunshades, or the neihborhood kids playing or their dad mowing the lawn. That’s not a problem if your book is about person sitting at the table while is wife is discussing stuff and his kids are outside playing.

            While reading aloud parts of the novel, I messed up on some of the wording. And I coughed, sneezed, and my chair made a lot of groaning noises. I’ve never had a desk chair that didn’t groan. Even if  I were to tape the thing while standing in my closet, I would still have enough gaps and guffs to make editing a beast.

            The only way I could have an audio-book correctly made is to hire someone to do it. If someone hired me to do the same thing for them, I’d have to charge thousands of bucks. It would take me at least six months to edit the recording.

            Since I don’t have the brains to handle such a job, I thought I might ask Bradly to help me. Years back, he and I video-taped our restaurant reviews. Some we filmed in an office at the Courier, and other times outside of the restaurant. We used Brad’s camera for filming and his computer for the editing. While Brad trashed me a lot in our reviews, I still thought the project was well done.

            A few years back, Kay videoed me delivering some devotionals in different places in and outside of our house. And, get this! I was actually able to edit them myself, and put them on Facebook or YouTube. I can’t remember.

            If push comes to shove, as it often does, Kay could tape me reading a chapter, after which I’d edit it. Maybe put it on YouTube a chapter at a time. The big drawback to that is I wouldn’t make a dime from the reading. What author would do such a thing for free?

Actually, a lot of writers would, including myself. The choices are to spend a lot of years trying to get your work published or publishing it yourself and try to get people to by standing on the street corner. Me? I hate selling anything. My opening is “You wouldn’t want to buy this would you?”  

            Unless my hip replacement surgery in some way damages my brain, I shall spend my recovery time trying to record the thing. I’m almost through with another book. All I need is an ending and a title. The novel I just finished is called “Little, Dizzy”. That’s the name of the only town in the state with a comma in it.  The reasoning is explained in one of the early chapters.

            Perhaps you’ll get a chance to hear and/or see the recording. Unless you don’t want to which is understandable. (That’s me trying to sell something.) Speaking of which, what really bothers me is the fact that I may have to ask Brad Meyer for help. That’s not going to go over well unless I mention how he ruined my hip. He’s yet to accept blame for that. That’s my friend for you. He can be a hard nut to crack. – Oh, and I didn’t mean that as a metaphor.     

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hayter.mark@gmail.com

Brad and Racquetball

 

Hayter for March 16, 2025

How Brad and Racquet Ball Messed Me Up

            When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one person to dissolve the bands of racquetball that have helped maintain a friendship between Brad Meyer and myself… yadda, yadda. I used the beginning of the Declaration of Independence to add seriousness to my situation.

               I haven’t even shared the news with Brad, yet. He seldom reads my articles, so I may just give him some stupid excuses for not meeting him at the gym. Oh, and get this! I’m paid up for two months with the Rec Center. The people in charge over there are as friendly as can be, but I doubt the County will reimburse a person due to his inability to use the facility for the duration of his pass. I may have to ask Kay to look into that for me.

            I’ve got to tell you—that girl was terrific today! Well, actually most days, but this day in particular. You see, I had to go to the hospital to take four hours' worth of notes on what I need to do in preparation for my hip replacement. – Beg pardon? Really? I thought I already mentioned my hip problem. Okay, I’m having my replaced in a week or two. I’ve no idea who donated their thigh to me. 

            The “donner” part was just me playing dumb. I’ve gotten good at that? In truth, there aren’t many bones you can donate. A knee, toe, finger, and skull are a few of the others. -- Try to tell that to Victor Frankenstein. 

            But forget other people. My hip started bothering me a few months back. Being the athlete that I am, I refused to make a big deal out of it. I just limped around the racquetball court while trying to get to the ball. At no time did Brad recognize my limp. He just grinned at me, each time that he won a point.

            I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I’m a man of constant sorrows. I’m nothing like the Soggy Bottom Boys in “O’ Brother Where Art Thou?” Those guys had it bad. Of course, we’ve all got sorrows. Right now, it’s taking all I’ve got to not blame Brad for my hip surgery.

The only thing that could’ve ruined my hip was the number I times I hit the floor or the wall while playing racquetball. At one time, I managed to get to the side wall, so Bradfordson wouldn’t run over. Well, for whatever reason, ran right into me, knocking me against the wall.  The collision resulted in him falling to the floor and bumping his head. then fell on the floor and bumped his head. And get this—he blamed me for it!

I’ve never claimed to be good at physics, but I do know enough to realize that when someone runs smack dab into you while your back is turned and you’re standing perfectly still, the resulting collision was not your fault.

When I managed to gather my wits, which were scattered all over the wall, I walked over to Brad to check on him. The big gallute just waved me off. -- “Don’t touch me.” I think that’s what he said. To tell you the truth, I was the only one who still had his wits about him. It didn’t matter, the Brad Man was ticked.

When he finally managed to stand, he said, “Why’d you knock me down?” All I needed to say was, “I’m sorry.” But, I felt the need to tell him the truth. He did not agree one bit with my truth. He still doesn’t, but we eventually both let it go. I only brought it up now because it was one of the many times that my body hit the wall or the floor. In other words, it’s one of many reasons that I need a hip replacement.

By the way, I don’t understand why the word “replacement” is used. The only thing replaced is the socket that’s planted in my right hip. I’ve got another socket in my left hip, but Brad hasn’t managed to mess it up yet. Fortunately, my right hip will never do that again. While I’ve run into the wall and fell on the floor multiple times in the gym, not one particular episode ruined my thigh joint. The thing eventually just got tired of hitting the wall and the floor. 

Since I haven’t suffered from any floor or wall episodes in my house or anywhere else, I have to assume that playing racquetball did me in. The only person I can blame for it is my friend Brad. Surely, he can understand that. And, yes, he hates it when I call him Shirley.

Kay went with me to the hospital today for my pre-replacement lecture. The kind therapist explained everything to me, using way too many details. I may not have mentioned it before, but my mind tends to wander when people try to explain something to in more than three sentences. Kay, oddly enough, knew that, so she took notes for me.

The therapist lady’s plan was to act as if my active life was over. She said my hip could possibly be healed in two months after the operation. When I heard that, I asked, “Will I still be able to play racquetball after that?”

She said “NO!” to racquetball, pickleball, wrestling, or playing jacks. I think she was joking about the jacks. When I pushed her barring racquetball from my activities, she said (I’m paraphrasing here.), “Look, you’re an old man. Your running days are over. Now you’re a walker. While you’ll need to be doing some slow exercises for the rest of your short life, you cannot run or move quickly in any direction. Other than that, you’ll do great.”

The scary part about all of this is the fact that Kay is acting as if she is now in charge of me. I don’t know what she’d do if I tried to play racquetball. Of course, there may come a time when she says, “Okay! Get your rear outta here and play racquetball. You and Brad practice jujitsu if you want! Me? I’m going to buy a dog, because you certainly won’t be much company.”

She didn’t say that, but I can read her pretty well.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

DST

 

Hayter for March 9 , 2025

“It’s time to delve into earlier times”

            On this year, March 9th turned out to be the first day of Daylight Savings Time (DST). That happens to be the only time of the year when you move your clock forward. It starts at 2:00 Sunday morning. At that very moment two o’clock becomes three o’clock.

That shouldn’t be a problem unless you set your alarm to wake you up at seven a.m., because it’s going to wake you up at eight a.m. Your clock will read seven, but since you forgot to set you clock up an hour, you’re going to be an hour late to church or to whatever appointment you may have had.

Raise your hand if you’re among those who forgot to set their clocks up an hour. -- Ah, well that’s sad. But the good news is that if you move your clock up you won’t be late to work on Monday morning. God is more forgiving than your boss might be.

The question is—“Why did the government decide to make us lose a whole hour of our lives?”  It was done to make the sunlight stick around longer in the evenings. Why is that? Well, it’s supposed to save an hour’s worth of electricity, because when you lose an hour, daylight sticks around for an hour longer than before. The rotation of the earth didn’t speed up. You were simply forced to set your clock up. You see, your clock doesn’t pay attention to the sun. It pays attention to whatever time it’s set on.

Ben Franklin was among the first to come up with the idea of moving time up by an hour. Only he wasn’t concerned about saving electric power, because there wasn’t any at the time. He just thought it was better to save an hours worth of candle wax, by going to bed an hour earlier than usual. Unfortunately, Franklin died the year after Washington was made President, so he was only familiar with the colonies, not the United States. It turned out that the new states had enough problems without messing with their clocks.  

The U.S. did adopt Daylight Savings Time during World Wars I and II. That was so citizens would save fuel for the U.S. by turning off their lanterns or light bulbs an hour earlier than usual. After each of the wars, the states were allowed to choose whether or not to stay with DST. The political figures in some states hated the idea.  

For years the states were in disagreement over what time it was. When carrying on business with a company in a state that doesn’t keep the same time as you, it can get confusing for both parties.

            That was one of the reasons that in 1966 President Lyndon Johnson  came up with the Uniform Time Act which put the nation on DST. The only way a state could get around it was to have an election on the issue. To this day Hawaii and Arizona have remained on Standard Time. On November 2, all states will return to Standard Time. That means we’ll get our lost hour back, because 2:00 a.m. automatically becomes 1:00 a.m. Take my word for it, you’re going to like it.

            I know what you’re thinking. – “Mark, your DST thing was boring as all get out!” -- As an ex-teacher, I can understand your pain. So let me change the topic to something that took place earlier this month. – Hey, sit back down! This may not hurt.

Some remembered that Ash Wednesday fell on March 5^th this year. That’s the day when Catholics and members of a few Christian denominations start a 40 day fast of sorts. Members pick a food that they really enjoy, but promise to quit eating it until the Saturday before Easter. That would make the fast last for about 46 days. However, I read somewhere that you don’t have to fast on Sundays. Again, Catholics and some other Christian churches are involved, but I imagine each differs in their fasting ritual.

Ash Wednesday is the time when members put ashes from burned palm limbs on their finger and make the symbol of a cross on their forehead. Other than the Catholic Church I don’t know which other congregations do that.

Easter falls on April 20 this year, because that’s the date of the first Sunday following the  first full moon of Spring. All of this is tied to the date of the Christ’s crucifixion. Biblical scholars came up with Friday, April 3 of 43A.D. as the date that Jesus was crucified.

Of course, Easter is not celebrated because of Jesus’ death, but because of His body coming back to life on the third day after his death. The holiday itself was not mentioned in scripture, but it was devised a few centuries after His death.

This is a small portion of all of the written information on Ash Wednesday and Easter. There are several thousand other religions in the world. And in each case, all believers of the same relgion have issues with one another. That being said, please try not to get stirred up over my limited research on time and religion. I merely ran across some information that I thought interesting. I fear my writing made it less so.

Next time, I may write about the rising cost of avocadoes. Now that’s something to get upset about.

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hayter.mark@gmail.com