Today's WikiHow
How to Get Your Child to Give You Back the iPad
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Now doesn't that make you feel better?
For all of you who use apostrophes incorrectly . . .
From Eats, Shoots & Leaves, quoting the Oxford Companion to English Literature,
"There never was a golden age in which the rules for the possessive apostrophe were clear-cut and known, understood and followed by most educated people."
See, you're not so dumb.
From Eats, Shoots & Leaves, quoting the Oxford Companion to English Literature,
"There never was a golden age in which the rules for the possessive apostrophe were clear-cut and known, understood and followed by most educated people."
See, you're not so dumb.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Two Things
1.
Today I took chili to a church function. I've always made good chili. It's true.
Earlier in the week, someone at Curves told me that her friend puts chorizo in chili and it is so very good. "You should try it," she said.
So I did.
I went out and bought some chorizo. Of course, you can't buy only one. You have to buy at least four in a package. At least four. And they aren't cheap.
This morning, I cut up the chorizo, only one of them, put the pieces in a frying pan to cook out some of the grease--it is so yellow, by the way--and then added it to my pot of chili. The chorizo, not the grease.
Yes, my chili was all eaten, for which I'm glad, but not before I had a bowl. However, and I'm sure you know where I'm going here, I can only say this about the chorizo and its effect upon my chili: enh. Translation: nothing to write home about.
2.
I have seen my dermatologist, Dr Burr-Under-the-Saddle, on TV in a commercial for ReJuv. There he is, as I have seen him for now many years, standing over some patient, holding her hand--her, of course, since ReJuv is a "Spa" specializing in making aging women look young--and he is wearing the light on his head, as usual.
They give him no speaking part, but if they did, I know what he would be saying. Something like, "Stick with me, kid."
Today I took chili to a church function. I've always made good chili. It's true.
Earlier in the week, someone at Curves told me that her friend puts chorizo in chili and it is so very good. "You should try it," she said.
So I did.
I went out and bought some chorizo. Of course, you can't buy only one. You have to buy at least four in a package. At least four. And they aren't cheap.
This morning, I cut up the chorizo, only one of them, put the pieces in a frying pan to cook out some of the grease--it is so yellow, by the way--and then added it to my pot of chili. The chorizo, not the grease.
Yes, my chili was all eaten, for which I'm glad, but not before I had a bowl. However, and I'm sure you know where I'm going here, I can only say this about the chorizo and its effect upon my chili: enh. Translation: nothing to write home about.
2.
I have seen my dermatologist, Dr Burr-Under-the-Saddle, on TV in a commercial for ReJuv. There he is, as I have seen him for now many years, standing over some patient, holding her hand--her, of course, since ReJuv is a "Spa" specializing in making aging women look young--and he is wearing the light on his head, as usual.
They give him no speaking part, but if they did, I know what he would be saying. Something like, "Stick with me, kid."
Friday, February 10, 2012
It Could Be Worse--I Suppose It Will Be Eventually
Took my friend to lunch today. A mix, of course.
Moments when she is just the person I knew. And very lucid, a word she used to describe herself. Other moments when she repeated and repeated and repeated what she had said before. So that some conversations are strained and others just normal.
She is puzzled. So am I. She says she has no confidence. I see that and hear it and understand why. I cannot count the times she thanked me for this break and time away. Doesn't matter that I tell her not to thank me.
I said, "We're friends." Which made her cry and thank me more.
No one calls to chat. That's kind of normal, I think. No one calls me either. She believes it's because people are afraid of her. Probably true also. It took her visiting teachers eight months to show up in person. Now they come each month, quite unafraid.
What she has isn't catching.
Her husband told me the first thing as I walked in the door, "We're going on a six-month mission." Seems they only learned last night of the six-month option.
I hope they do that. Her neurologist sees no reason not to. Says of all the patients he sees, she is doing the best.
They keep very active. Daily workouts at the Y and daily walks around the neighborhood. And he always has some chore for her to do. But he did the laundry and the dishes today. He helped make the jam--with their own strawberries--and I now have some in my freezer.
I believe the physical activity helps. I also believe her return to the piano helps. A lot. It makes her think and work hard. It is also a refuge.
Moments when she is just the person I knew. And very lucid, a word she used to describe herself. Other moments when she repeated and repeated and repeated what she had said before. So that some conversations are strained and others just normal.
She is puzzled. So am I. She says she has no confidence. I see that and hear it and understand why. I cannot count the times she thanked me for this break and time away. Doesn't matter that I tell her not to thank me.
I said, "We're friends." Which made her cry and thank me more.
No one calls to chat. That's kind of normal, I think. No one calls me either. She believes it's because people are afraid of her. Probably true also. It took her visiting teachers eight months to show up in person. Now they come each month, quite unafraid.
What she has isn't catching.
Her husband told me the first thing as I walked in the door, "We're going on a six-month mission." Seems they only learned last night of the six-month option.
I hope they do that. Her neurologist sees no reason not to. Says of all the patients he sees, she is doing the best.
They keep very active. Daily workouts at the Y and daily walks around the neighborhood. And he always has some chore for her to do. But he did the laundry and the dishes today. He helped make the jam--with their own strawberries--and I now have some in my freezer.
I believe the physical activity helps. I also believe her return to the piano helps. A lot. It makes her think and work hard. It is also a refuge.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Ggggggggoing strong.
Sometimes I have to have a Subway sandwich to remind myself of how very much I do not need another one for a very long time.
Kind of a private public service I perform for myself.
Not that I have anything against Subway. I don't. Which may be part of the problem.
Anyway, today I did it. And, okay, it was a foot long. February is $5 footlong, any footlong, month. All month. And it's Leap Year, you know, so 29 days of it.
I admit, I'm influenced by those $5 footlong commercials. That little ditty is catchy, and it caught me about six days ago. I put it off, but today was it for me
I ate almost all of the sandwich--it was a Club--after which I was sorry, of course. But that's part of the private public service. You kind of have to eat until you don't feel very well. Makes it more effective.
I think.
Kind of a private public service I perform for myself.
Not that I have anything against Subway. I don't. Which may be part of the problem.
Anyway, today I did it. And, okay, it was a foot long. February is $5 footlong, any footlong, month. All month. And it's Leap Year, you know, so 29 days of it.
I admit, I'm influenced by those $5 footlong commercials. That little ditty is catchy, and it caught me about six days ago. I put it off, but today was it for me
I ate almost all of the sandwich--it was a Club--after which I was sorry, of course. But that's part of the private public service. You kind of have to eat until you don't feel very well. Makes it more effective.
I think.
Friday, February 3, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Just So You Know
I don't like it when:
I 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.
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