What’s so great about the “Giant Economy Size”? The idea, of course, is that you get a lot more product for only a bit more money. Hah! They’ve hoodwinked us right out of our wallets. That huge box of cereal isn’t full of cereal. It’s half full of cereal and half full of air. And does the “Giant Economy Size” fit in your cupboard? It does not. In the olden days — like the middle of the last century — they built houses with sensible cupboards to accommodate sensible size boxes. And bottles. Yeah, it’s not just the boxes, it’s the bottles, too. As a rule, I don’t use 4 letter words, but last weekend was a “3 Day Sale” at Sprouts and I have to say it — my favorite four letter word is SALE! When I see that word, common sense just flies right out of my head.… Read More »
Visiting (the People’s Republic of ) California
Recently I had reason to drive down to California. L.A., to be specific. Slightly over an hour after leaving Las Vegas, one passes the final set of casinos and crosses the state line into California. There is a sign saying “Welcome to California” which puzzled me for a few minutes — several pieces of the state seemed to be missing and I was wondering if this was intended to portray the state as it might look after The Big One. But no, I realized, the missing pieces were actually part of the silhouette of the bear. This being the Bear Republic. This is almost immediately followed by a sign that says “seat belt law strictly enforced.” Okay, fair warning. In Nevada we have a campaign that says “click it or ticket” with the picture of a seat belt. Not quite as authoritarian, perhaps a little catchier, but we all get… Read More »
Oh, the glorious mute button!
Recently I got a new TV– one with a mute button. “Don’t all TVs have a mute button?” you may ask. Well, yes, I imagine they do, but the one on my new TV actually works! I’ve known for some time that I needed a new TV. I noticed that often Pat Sajak was only half a person at the edge of the screen, or people would be looking off to the side at something I was unable to see. For the amount of time I watch TV, it wasn’t really a big deal. After all, I know what Pat Sajak looks like, and I know that if I can’t see what’s off to the side of the screen on NCIS it’ll soon be made clear. But the last straw was when the remote stopped working. First of all, the up and down arrows wouldn’t work to scan the channels… Read More »
Reading the Obituaries
Okay, reading the obituaries might sound a bit depressing. I don’t make a habit of it, but I do find myself looking at them from time-to-time. Perhaps it’s because I’ve passed the Biblical “three score and ten” and I realize that one of these days, people will be reading mine and saying, “huh — really? I didn’t know that.” Or perhaps it’s that I haven’t finished the second cup of coffee and there’s not much left to read. I’m not exactly an expert obituaries, but I’ve read enough to know that it basically starts with the person’s age and sometimes cause of death, what they accomplished in their life, a list of family, and finally their religious affiliation, if any, and memorial service. Or as they call it now, “celebration of life.” So there is a sameness about them all starting with the name. I’m amazed that people feel the need to… Read More »
Even the Trash Man feels sorry for me
It’s not enough that my doctor’s staff, the checker at the market and the lawn guys treat me like I’m an old lady, add the trash man to that list. Honestly! It’s one of those days — no, one of those weeks. You know — lots to do, no desire or energy to do any of it. Two days ago I spent with a friend at the passport office, waiting in line, waiting for an interview, waiting, waiting. Yesterday I woke up with a queasy tummy and spent the day pretty much lying around. This morning started out much better. Woke up early, fed the cats, made myself a big breakfast (hungry after not eating yesterday) and took off to feed and walk a friend’s dog while she’s on vacation. I’d been home only a few minutes when I heard the trash truck coming down the street. I ran out… Read More »
Is it hairspray or is it a fire hose?
Every time I pick up a can of hairspray, I cringe. I know I’m not the only woman on the North American continent experiencing this, either. It’s always been something of a problem, but seems to be getting more so. My hair — which was never anything to brag about to begin with — has decidedly become less so. My mother used to tell me it wasn’t thin — it was “fine.” Even as a child, I knew better. My hair wasn’t just “fine,” it was thin, too. Great, both thin and fine. Wonderful. The only thing mother could do with it was braid it into two thin (or fine. or both) braids which she dressed up with ribbons. And, as if that weren’t enough, it would never grow much past my shoulders. In fifth grade there was a girl named Maria Mendez. Maria had heavy, thick dark hair. Maria… Read More »
Oh no, not John Gavin!
“Wait. Wait … who is John Gavin?” Jeanine and I looked at Kathie and then looked at each other. “What do you mean who is John Gavin?” I asked. “How can you have not heard of him? He’s one of the handsomest actors of all time. He was every woman ‘s dream man.” “He was in a bunch of movies,” Jeanine added. “Psycho and Spartacus, Imitation of Life, Back Street… You don’t emember him? ” Kathie shook her head. Granted, she is a bit — well, maybe more than a bit — younger than I am, but how could she not know my teenage heartthrob, John Gavin? “Here, let me pull up a picture,” Jeanine added as she reached for her phone. This all occurred a few nights ago when Kathie and Jeanine dropped by. We had started out talking about dogs and their people and it brought back a memory… Read More »
clarification and apology
Oh, my word, I owe you an apology! When I sent yesterday’s blog about my adventure in the hospital, I didn’t take into account that many of my friends and blog followers were not aware of the situation. So I apologize for (1) leaving you in he my dark and (2) startling you with my account. Just to bring you into the loop – about six months ago I started having breathing problems and ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. (And by-the-way, on the hospital admission paper, they put the reason for admission as “SOB.” A bit confusing until I figured out that stood for Shortness of Breath and was not a reflection on my character. I hope.) CT scans and X-rays show scarring, cloudiness and “spider-webbing” in my lungs, none of which are good. In spite of extensive testing, X-rays and CT scans, the doctors couldn’t pinpoint the… Read More »
So how about that morphine?
“Okay, now, don’t move.” It was my first night in the Intensive Care Unit and the nurse was standing there holding a needle. “This morphine is going right into your heart.” “What?” “The vena cava. It’s the large vein that takes the blood right into your heart.” No … that “what” wasn’t a request for more information — it was a yelp of shock, dismay and whatever is the next step down from terror. “Hold real still,” she said as she picked up the IV port in my neck. Oh, believe me, I was holding real still! There was nothing in this hospital that was holding stiller than I was. The chair in the corner wasn’t even as still as me. I coulda been a statue. I wasn’t even breathing. “There,” she said. “All done. How do you feel?” Terrified would probably cover it. Scared out of my wits. You’re… Read More »
Is it Kipling, or is it my dad?
Okay, perhaps that is a silly question — of course the poem was written by Rudyard Kipling. At least I’m pretty sure. Dad would sometimes quote “Twenty Bridges from tower to Kew … twenty bridges or twenty-two … wanted to know what the river knew.” My dad was born and raised in England back at the beginning of the last century when, he would sometimes tell me, “British meant best.” Although he loved America, a part of his heart still belonged to England. So you bet I was thrilled when my second assignment in the U.S. Foreign Service was to the American Embassy in London. I remember walking along the Thames thinking of those twenty bridges … or twenty-two. Today when I was sorting through (yet another!) box of papers from decades ago in an effort to pare down the clutter, I came across the poem my dad typed out and… Read More »
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