Not Good

I need to add this to my I don't like it when list.

I don't like it when I go out to get the mail, and there is only one piece of mail, and it's from the local mortuary.

They have a nice little (19 questions) survey they want me to "take a minute" to answer.

If I will take those few moments, they'll send me their "My Final Wishes Organizer."

It's true, you never know, and clearly my time is getting closer, but I'm not doing it.

Just So You Know

I don't like it when:

• people less than half my age tell me how to do something I've been doing--and very well, thank you--since before they were born
• people assume my white hair means the head beneath it is empty
• people think that I couldn't possible know "what's going on"; think again
  
• things break or go wrong in my house; it makes me feel insecure
• my hair is straight; it makes me feel insecure
  

I like it when:

• my garage door opens without a hitch
• my car starts
• my across-the-street neighbor calls to tell me I've left my garage door open; this only happens at night, and I don't often leave the door open, but if I do, she calls--I can count on it
• my neighbor on my left mows my little stretch of lawn near his house
• someone comes to rake my leaves--and I don't really care who it is
• my kids call and I know they are okay
• better yet, they stop by
  
• friends stop by
• I've lost a pound or two
• my hair has some curl in it

And I like it that I have finished my Grandma's quilt.

Hmph!

Have you tried to buy a five-pound bag of sugar lately?

Or a quart jar of mayonnaise?

Then there's the matter of graham crackers. Don't get me started.

Oh, you can buy the package of sugar that sort of looks like the 5-pound bag you've been for buying your whole life--and your mother before you--but no such thing exists any more. Not even the off brands make a 5-pound bag. It's four pounds now . . . at the same price, or higher, actually.

And the jar of mayo looks about the same as it used to, except the bottom isn't flat. Not by a long shot. And it's a 30-ounce jar now. And if you buy the name brand, Best Foods, you'll pay about $3.50 for a jar.

But I am started on the graham crackers. I have a recipe that calls for 12 graham crackers, which used to be what you found in one of the packs inside the box. Handy. Then one day, the inner pack held 11 graham crackers. Now it's down to 9. And it's not cheap.

How do they do it? Isn't it expensive to keep redesigning and re-manufacturing packages? Oh, yeah, that's right. It is. And guess who pays for it.

What goes around comes around, eventually

On my way to Curves this morning I stopped at the red light at Boise and Apple. There's a bus stop on that corner, and a young woman stood in the rain (she had an umbrella) waiting. I thought to stop and offer her a ride but was in the wrong lane.

I went down the street, made a couple of turns, then came back to where she was. By then a young man had arrived. I offered them both a ride while the car behind me honked. The young man refused. She accepted. I took her to BSU and learned she comes from Kodiak, Alaska, and is in her second semester at BSU, a Sociology major.

I dropped her off and headed down Broadway to Curves. Stopped at the red light at Boise and Broadway, then proceeded on the green light. I saw the police car pull out back behind me, saw the flashing lights, said to myself, "It can't be me; I'm going the speed limit, under it, in fact."

He kept coming. "It's me," I decided and turned in at the Curves parking lot. He followed.

Did I know how fast I was going? Yes, I thought I was going 35.

"You were going 32 in a school zone with a crossing guard and those flashing yellow lights."

I must have accelerated fast. I didn't think I had reached that speed until down by the LDS church. But I didn't say that to him. To him I said, "I'm sorry."

He took all my documents. Five minutes later he did not give me a warning.

I have just written the check for $151.50 to Magistrate Court.

The First Snow Fall of the Year

10:30 and already a lotta snow, I'd guess about 4 inches, and, to quote the old song, "it shows no signs of stopping."

Yes, we need it. Need the water it will produce next Spring.

And I think of those people at the nearby ski resorts--Bogus Basin, for one--and how happy they are today. If they haven't already gone out of business. I hope they haven't.

Skiers, tobogganers, sledders, a happy bunch.

It's beautiful, too.

It was supposed to begin at 9 a.m. so I went to Curves at 6:30, thinking I'd be home ahead of the snow. But it had already begun to fall when I left my house, and in the 50 minutes I spent at Curves enough came down to make driving home scary. Borderline treacherous.

Glad I did a little shopping last night, because I don't plan to leave my house again today.

It's warm in here; my sheets are clean; I'm clean; plenty of food and water, things to do. I sound like I'm planning to stay in the rest of the winter. I hope not.

I write simply to mark the day and acknowledge the snow.

Lay, Lie

We've been through this before, but it's one of those pesky problems that will recur, you know. You must know that.

This morning at Curves Marcia said, "Say, English teacher." She was addressing me.

Me: Yes.

Marcia: The lay/lie thing. Can you tell me something that will help me know which to use when?

Me: Don't know.
I mean, there is only so much one person (me, or I, if you're a stickler) can do. I can tell her, but that doesn't mean she'll remember and forever after get it right, you know. You do know that. Right? But, of course, I had to do what I could for her.

Me again: I'll try. Lay, in the present tense, takes an object.

Marcia: A bit blank.

Me: You lay it down. But you lie down.

Marcia: Oh.

Me: But lay is also the past tense of lie, and that may be what . . . (I was going to say, confuses people. But she cut me off.)

Marcia: Oh, don't tell me about that. I don't want to hear that.

Me: Okay. Here it is. You wouldn't say, I'm going to lay down, unless it's a book. I'm going to lay the book down. But you would say, I'm going lie down.

Marcia: Okay, yes. I see. That helps a lot. My husband is always correcting me, you know.

Me: (I didn't know, but he's a lawyer, and so maybe I should have known.) So get this right, and then he won't know . . .

Marcia: He'll have to find something else to correct me on.

Me: No doubt he will. (But I did not say it out loud.)

So there you have it. Another soul set straight on the lay/lie path. May she ever stay on it.

That's what we English teachers live for, you know.

Today's Wiki How

How to Be a Hairy Woman (and Proud Of It)

Enough said.