Today's blog will contain updates related to some of my older blogs. Not that you've actually clamored for updates, but maybe you've been somewhat curious.
October is my "back to school" month; that's when classes start up again at the Senior Center. (See "Shake Your Booty" written 11/19/12.) Zumba whipped my butt today. That's probably because it got so hot this summer that I stopped leaving the air conditioned house for classes. About the most energetic I got was to drive in the air conditioned car to float blissfully at the pool. Class is back in session, and some of my favorite characters are back. There's the athlete. This squat older lady is always in the front row flinging her arms and her weights. She wears a towel twisted around her bra strap and draping down the front of her shirt. It always makes me laugh since the rest of us just wipe off on our t-shirts. But, she got through class a lot easier than I did today. My knees were in agony after a summer of no stretching them. (Remember "The Bees Knees" from 5/21/13?) The dancer is back, only now I think she fantasizes she's on Dancing With the Stars. She raises her arms to dance with her imaginary partner and smiles over her shoulder at the judges (aka the back row). The newest class member is the prancer. Have you seen the You Tube video of the woman who loves horses and has developed an exercise program called Prancercise? Well, prancing woman has turned up in our class! She's fun to watch. I'm just waiting for her to rear up and whinny. Gotta love her. She also did much better than I at class. This session I'm taking an intriguing class - cane fu. Yep, you read that right - kung fu for the cane wielding set. Can't wait to learn to flip a cane like Bruce Lee would have had he lived long enough.
Remember "Psychics" from 8/13/13? I had my session with her, and it was pretty much what I expected...nothing special. She told me I have arthritis. Well, the doctor told me that news a while ago and at least his consultation was covered by insurance. She kept harping about a man who had betrayed me, and how he had caused me a lot of harm that has lingered with me for far too long. I didn't know what she was talking about, and then long after she could answer any questions for me, I realized to what she had been referring. In my blog called "Faith/Religion: Something I've Been Told Never to Discuss" from 11/4/12, I touched briefly on the lunatic rector that resulted in my leaving my church home of thirty years. Now that was a betrayal!!! That was a terrible life experience caused by a crazy man. But, since I couldn't recall it at the time of the reading, I never did get any advice from her concerning the matter. She told me that my mother is always with me. Well, that's nice, but I know that both of my parents send signs all the time that they're with me. See "Dimes" from 1/19/13. Am I going to meet a wonderful man? No. Gee, I didn't see that coming, insert sarcasm. (Refer to "matchsingleseniorsfishinthesea.com" from 3/18/13. ) But her biggest "prediction" was that I'd have a huge and unexpected expense in the near future. I own a home; how hard is it to make such a prediction? The expense, though, did occur. And it wasn't what I was watching out for.
Do you recall "So if cats have 9 lives, how many do dogs get?" from 3/21/13? Trixie struck again. This past week I nearly lost her. She ate a glob of dental floss. I figured she'd pass it. Thank goodness she ate a half cup of chocolate frosting the next day. At least that worried me because chocolate is so bad for dogs. The morning after, when I awoke to Trixie vomit all over the house, I thought the chocolate had poisoned her. The next few days were a nightmare as she got worse and nobody knew what was wrong. When the emergency vet alerted me at 1:00 am that she was going to do exploratory surgery because she suspected the dental floss was twisted inside of her, I thought I'd be sick. Sure enough, the surgery revealed floss stuck in her stomach and twisted around her intestines. Had we waited much longer, the intestines could have ruptured and filled her body with fatal toxins. She's alive, almost $3000 later. Seriously, couldn't the psychic have told me to watch out for dental floss instead of telling me to expect a big expense in the near future??
My Godgirl's wedding went off without a hitch. And without cicadas! (See "My Godgirl's Getting Married" from 5/8/13.) She was breathtakingly beautiful. John was Prince Charmingly handsome. They exchanged vows that made us laugh and cry. Being that they are animal lovers, a few special touches made the wedding extra special. When John extended a leather-gloved hand, a hawk holding a little bag with their rings in it landed on his arm. The couple set off two doves at the end of the ceremony, doves that joined a flock of white birds circling overhead. The wine flowed, the music played, and we all danced in the moonlight.
I'm still working on my "Random Acts of Kindness" from 3/29/13. When I won $500 at the casino, it gave me the chance to donate a little more than 10% for the classroom of a friend who teaches in a troubled Philadelphia school. When I learned a former student was suffering cancer and in danger of losing the home she was working to provide for her three children, I was able to donate to her and share the information for her fundraising page. Sharing that information led others to donate, too. She needed $700, but over $3000 was raised! Those two I can tell you about, as those donations were publicly made. My other RAKs are my secret. I still have more to complete, though, before this year is over.
So there you go, updates on some of my blogs. Is there anything else you might like to know? Send me your questions!
Monday, September 30, 2013
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Litter
What is happening in America? Specifically, I am referring to trash. Litter. Everywhere.
The hill leading up to my street is a prime target for litterers. I have been appalled by the things discarded on this road. Why dump your tinsel covered Christmas tree when the town gladly picks them up outside of your house? You really can't hold on to your fast food bags until you get home? The worst was the mattress that sat there for months. Why? There are ways to get rid of trash that don't involve polluting the neighboring streets.
I'd like to blame young people, simply because I'm old and I want to blame young people for everything. (I have my prejudices, I must admit.) Having been a middle school teacher I was witness to countless acts of mindless littering. Kids constantly threw their trash on the floor or in the halls, and if you tried to get them to pick it up, they always said it wasn't theirs. Argghh!! So, I picked it up. Constantly. I thought I was being a good role model when in reality I was probably teaching them it was ok to trash the floors because the teachers or custodians would pick it up. We teachers tried to rectify the situation by taking the kids out on beautiful days to pick up the trash on the school grounds to keep it from polluting the Chesapeake Bay. They really got into it and felt satisfied about doing something to help the Bay. This was one part of their Service Learning Project. I like to think it made a direct impact on those kids.
I pick up a lot of trash in front of my house, snack food paper dumped by the kids walking home from the bus. It annoys the hell out of me, but I don't say anything just to keep the peace. The other day, my lawn mower guy and I were chatting on my front steps when a van with two young women drove by and tossed their trash out of the window and on to my driveway. I jumped up yelling, "Yo bitch" while simultaneously shocking the heck out of the lawn guy who always thought I was a mild-mannered retired schoolmarm. What did she rip up and throw out of the window? A picture lovingly drawn by a child as a gift for one of them. That made both of us even angrier. I remember when my friend Dottie got married. One of her chores the morning of the wedding was to go to the church and scoop up the litter on the church grounds. Once I asked a young man why he threw his fast food bags out of the cab of his truck. He replied that he took great pride in his truck and didn't want to mess it up.
Oy vay.
I know there are other people as disturbed as I am by this trash trend. When he was in better health, my neighbor Herb would walk the streets and pick up trash along the way. Some group actually bagged the trash on the hill leading to my street. I don't know when the bags will ever get collected, and now people driving up the hill are throwing their trash on top of the bags, but they tried. There is a group of volunteers who meet regularly in Havre de Grace to collect and properly dispose of litter. And the more prisoners on work detail detrashing our streets the better! (Well, I don't know if the prisoner example actually counts as people caring about our environment, but they work really hard and do a good job.)
The big question is how to get people to care. I grew up with the single tear sliding down the weathered old face of an Indian mourning the pollution of his land. (Yeah, yeah. I know he wasn't a real Native American, but he was a good actor). No way could I throw a piece of paper on the ground without being haunted by his tear-stained countenance. What has changed? Why do people trash their environments so easily? Where's the remorse? Where's the responsibility? Where's the common sense?
The hill leading up to my street is a prime target for litterers. I have been appalled by the things discarded on this road. Why dump your tinsel covered Christmas tree when the town gladly picks them up outside of your house? You really can't hold on to your fast food bags until you get home? The worst was the mattress that sat there for months. Why? There are ways to get rid of trash that don't involve polluting the neighboring streets.
I'd like to blame young people, simply because I'm old and I want to blame young people for everything. (I have my prejudices, I must admit.) Having been a middle school teacher I was witness to countless acts of mindless littering. Kids constantly threw their trash on the floor or in the halls, and if you tried to get them to pick it up, they always said it wasn't theirs. Argghh!! So, I picked it up. Constantly. I thought I was being a good role model when in reality I was probably teaching them it was ok to trash the floors because the teachers or custodians would pick it up. We teachers tried to rectify the situation by taking the kids out on beautiful days to pick up the trash on the school grounds to keep it from polluting the Chesapeake Bay. They really got into it and felt satisfied about doing something to help the Bay. This was one part of their Service Learning Project. I like to think it made a direct impact on those kids.
I pick up a lot of trash in front of my house, snack food paper dumped by the kids walking home from the bus. It annoys the hell out of me, but I don't say anything just to keep the peace. The other day, my lawn mower guy and I were chatting on my front steps when a van with two young women drove by and tossed their trash out of the window and on to my driveway. I jumped up yelling, "Yo bitch" while simultaneously shocking the heck out of the lawn guy who always thought I was a mild-mannered retired schoolmarm. What did she rip up and throw out of the window? A picture lovingly drawn by a child as a gift for one of them. That made both of us even angrier. I remember when my friend Dottie got married. One of her chores the morning of the wedding was to go to the church and scoop up the litter on the church grounds. Once I asked a young man why he threw his fast food bags out of the cab of his truck. He replied that he took great pride in his truck and didn't want to mess it up.
Oy vay.
I know there are other people as disturbed as I am by this trash trend. When he was in better health, my neighbor Herb would walk the streets and pick up trash along the way. Some group actually bagged the trash on the hill leading to my street. I don't know when the bags will ever get collected, and now people driving up the hill are throwing their trash on top of the bags, but they tried. There is a group of volunteers who meet regularly in Havre de Grace to collect and properly dispose of litter. And the more prisoners on work detail detrashing our streets the better! (Well, I don't know if the prisoner example actually counts as people caring about our environment, but they work really hard and do a good job.)
The big question is how to get people to care. I grew up with the single tear sliding down the weathered old face of an Indian mourning the pollution of his land. (Yeah, yeah. I know he wasn't a real Native American, but he was a good actor). No way could I throw a piece of paper on the ground without being haunted by his tear-stained countenance. What has changed? Why do people trash their environments so easily? Where's the remorse? Where's the responsibility? Where's the common sense?
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Typical Tuesday
There was nothing spectacular about this day. Nothing special or memorable to rave about. Yet, as I am about to go to bed, I realize I feel happy and content. This was a good day.
I had a long chat with my friend Karen Green. If you know Karen, you're a lucky person. If you don't know her, trust me when I tell you she's amazing. She's an optimist. An inspiration. A hoot. A survivor. A fighter. And she's funny. I chuckled to myself the rest of the day after my visit with her. It's a blessing to have a friend who makes you laugh.
I had a long list of errands to do today. Do you enjoy crossing things off the list? I do. I'm feeling very satisfied that today's list is done and tomorrow's list seems doable.
Met with my book club and discussed a book I loved (And the Mountains Echoed). I missed my book buddies over the summer break and I was so happy to see them. The shrimp salad wrap at McGregor's was a delicious treat. What a great few hours!
Brenda, Ronnie, and I then went to the casino. No, I didn't win another $500, but who cares? We had fun. We played trivia. I drank a delicious frozen margarita. Win win.
Since I've been retired, people frequently ask me what I do all day. When I try to answer that question, I'm usually stumped. I know I'm always busy and the days turn into weeks, turn into months, and turn into years. But if I had to tell you exactly what I did with my time, I'd be at a loss for words . Just what do I do all day??? Well, I figured out the best answer to that question tonight - Whatever I want!
I hope you had a good day today. Here's hoping for a good tomorrow.
Brenda, me, and Ronnie
I had a long chat with my friend Karen Green. If you know Karen, you're a lucky person. If you don't know her, trust me when I tell you she's amazing. She's an optimist. An inspiration. A hoot. A survivor. A fighter. And she's funny. I chuckled to myself the rest of the day after my visit with her. It's a blessing to have a friend who makes you laugh.
I had a long list of errands to do today. Do you enjoy crossing things off the list? I do. I'm feeling very satisfied that today's list is done and tomorrow's list seems doable.
Met with my book club and discussed a book I loved (And the Mountains Echoed). I missed my book buddies over the summer break and I was so happy to see them. The shrimp salad wrap at McGregor's was a delicious treat. What a great few hours!
Brenda, Ronnie, and I then went to the casino. No, I didn't win another $500, but who cares? We had fun. We played trivia. I drank a delicious frozen margarita. Win win.
Since I've been retired, people frequently ask me what I do all day. When I try to answer that question, I'm usually stumped. I know I'm always busy and the days turn into weeks, turn into months, and turn into years. But if I had to tell you exactly what I did with my time, I'd be at a loss for words . Just what do I do all day??? Well, I figured out the best answer to that question tonight - Whatever I want!
I hope you had a good day today. Here's hoping for a good tomorrow.
Brenda, me, and Ronnie
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Church???
It's Sunday, and once again I'm not in church. In fact, I'm watching a cheesy movie called Return to Peyton Place. I'm feeling guilty, but not quite sure what to do about that guilt.
I've written before about my experience with my church of thirty years. It soured me on churches. Not God, churches. I've visited other churches, but none have called my name. None have felt like home. For a long while, I was attending the church across the street from my old church. It's a beautiful building with a wonderful pastor, but I don't feel any connection to its community. I visited the latest flavor in mega churches and while the pastor is motivating and the people kind, it wasn't for me either.
What's a gal to do? I don't think that attending church in order to have a tax write-off in January is a very good idea. But right now, I can't think of any other reason to go.
Pretty sad, huh?
Why do you go to your church? Habit? Tradition? Or are you truly motivated because each visit makes your faith stronger, your life better?
I'm lost.
I've written before about my experience with my church of thirty years. It soured me on churches. Not God, churches. I've visited other churches, but none have called my name. None have felt like home. For a long while, I was attending the church across the street from my old church. It's a beautiful building with a wonderful pastor, but I don't feel any connection to its community. I visited the latest flavor in mega churches and while the pastor is motivating and the people kind, it wasn't for me either.
What's a gal to do? I don't think that attending church in order to have a tax write-off in January is a very good idea. But right now, I can't think of any other reason to go.
Pretty sad, huh?
Why do you go to your church? Habit? Tradition? Or are you truly motivated because each visit makes your faith stronger, your life better?
I'm lost.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Downy Ocean, Hon
This year we moved our family vacation from Rehoboth to Ocean City. We needed more space than a hotel "suite" could provide. We kept the same week because it is probably the least crowded week of the year. While all the Maryland and Delaware children are back at school, those of us who waited all summer are enjoying a sparser OC. Good things come to those who wait!
Getting here was a dream come true. There was barely any traffic. The ride I expected could take us as long as four hours was accomplished in less than three. Getting the key from the real estate agent was easily done. Moving into the condo was great as this place had tons of carts and lots of staff to keep the process orderly. Lots of staff. And lots of rules. And lots of staff to make sure you obey lots of rules. I'm good with it. The first night here, a fight started with a loud bunch of drinkers. The staff broke it up immediately; I think they're all ex-marines.
Anyhow, I was feeling very lucky that things were going so nicely. And in beach tradition, it was confirmed that I am lucky. First day on the beach a seagull plopped one big hunk of poop on my back. Everybody we've laughingly told the story to has said the same thing, That's really lucky. I believe it.
Today was an amazing day. Since I broke my leg five years ago, I have had issues with leg strength, bad knees, vertigo, going up and down steps, and my leg just collapsing on me. I don't know if this stuff is related to the broken leg, but I've noticed these symptoms since then. The summer I broke my leg, I, my sister, her daughters, and a friend of hers rented a condo at the beach. I couldn't go. I was wheelchair bound and it was just too difficult to get me there. I was bereft as they loaded up the car and drove to MY vacation. I didn't get to the beach once that year or the next year as I was still slowly recovering from my second broken leg.
When I did get back to annually visiting the beach, we'd stay at Rehoboth. We had a great time, but something was missing for me. I couldn't get in and out of the ocean without falling repeatedly. It terrified me when I couldn't get up without assistance. That was the end of my going into the Atlantic Ocean. It broke my heart. My beach buddy Dottie and I no longer took those bi-weekly day trips to the ocean. I resigned myself to spending the rest of my aquatic life in a pool.
But I was lucky. Really lucky today. All the conditions were right and I ventured into the sea. No deep dips in the sand. Long gaps of time between each smacking wave so I could avoid my knees being attacked and me falling over. Before I knew it, I was bobbing on the waves. I was spitting out salt water. My sister taught my nieces how to body surf and I was able to join them. It was heaven. And like I used to do when I was young, I stayed in the water for hours. I am so thankful to have enjoyed this experience! I was convinced that I was never, ever getting back together with my mermaid self. But today, I swam in the ocean. For me, this was a miracle. Can you imagine the joy of doing something you love that you thought was forever lost to you? To quote Cathy from The Big C , "Lucky me."
But, I even got luckier! Dee and I visited the casino. It was either that or just throw money off the balcony and into the fly-infested wind. We figured the casino would be more fun. I actually won $30!! Me, a winner. Imagine that.
It's supposed to rain on Wednesday. Oh well. As the saying goes, even a bad day at the beach is better than a good day at the office. And how!
Getting here was a dream come true. There was barely any traffic. The ride I expected could take us as long as four hours was accomplished in less than three. Getting the key from the real estate agent was easily done. Moving into the condo was great as this place had tons of carts and lots of staff to keep the process orderly. Lots of staff. And lots of rules. And lots of staff to make sure you obey lots of rules. I'm good with it. The first night here, a fight started with a loud bunch of drinkers. The staff broke it up immediately; I think they're all ex-marines.
Anyhow, I was feeling very lucky that things were going so nicely. And in beach tradition, it was confirmed that I am lucky. First day on the beach a seagull plopped one big hunk of poop on my back. Everybody we've laughingly told the story to has said the same thing, That's really lucky. I believe it.
Today was an amazing day. Since I broke my leg five years ago, I have had issues with leg strength, bad knees, vertigo, going up and down steps, and my leg just collapsing on me. I don't know if this stuff is related to the broken leg, but I've noticed these symptoms since then. The summer I broke my leg, I, my sister, her daughters, and a friend of hers rented a condo at the beach. I couldn't go. I was wheelchair bound and it was just too difficult to get me there. I was bereft as they loaded up the car and drove to MY vacation. I didn't get to the beach once that year or the next year as I was still slowly recovering from my second broken leg.
When I did get back to annually visiting the beach, we'd stay at Rehoboth. We had a great time, but something was missing for me. I couldn't get in and out of the ocean without falling repeatedly. It terrified me when I couldn't get up without assistance. That was the end of my going into the Atlantic Ocean. It broke my heart. My beach buddy Dottie and I no longer took those bi-weekly day trips to the ocean. I resigned myself to spending the rest of my aquatic life in a pool.
But I was lucky. Really lucky today. All the conditions were right and I ventured into the sea. No deep dips in the sand. Long gaps of time between each smacking wave so I could avoid my knees being attacked and me falling over. Before I knew it, I was bobbing on the waves. I was spitting out salt water. My sister taught my nieces how to body surf and I was able to join them. It was heaven. And like I used to do when I was young, I stayed in the water for hours. I am so thankful to have enjoyed this experience! I was convinced that I was never, ever getting back together with my mermaid self. But today, I swam in the ocean. For me, this was a miracle. Can you imagine the joy of doing something you love that you thought was forever lost to you? To quote Cathy from The Big C , "Lucky me."
But, I even got luckier! Dee and I visited the casino. It was either that or just throw money off the balcony and into the fly-infested wind. We figured the casino would be more fun. I actually won $30!! Me, a winner. Imagine that.
It's supposed to rain on Wednesday. Oh well. As the saying goes, even a bad day at the beach is better than a good day at the office. And how!
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Call Me Maybe
A recent event had me examining my cell phone use and my lack of interest in investing in a super phone. Seems like I am totally out of touch with the 21st century. And you know what? I don't give a damn.
My brother and I were supposed to meet half way between his house and mine so that I could take my niece to my house for a few days. I was at the fast food place on time, 5:00. He wasn't there at 5:30, 6:00, 6:30, or 7:00. Had he been late leaving the house? Bad traffic? Accident? Lost? I was worried, but couldn't do much about it. You see, my phone was dead. I'd not used it the week I was on vacation, and it never occurred to me to charge it until I wanted to find out where the heck my brother was. Finally, I figured I needed to get home and use my land line to make some calls. It was a forty-five minute drive. When I got to my house, all the lights were on. My friend had let him and my niece into the house. He was apoplectic with anger. He was literally foaming at the mouth and screaming at me for not having my phone charged. He told me I was stupid, crazy, had Alzheimer's, etc. I told him to get out of my f-g house. Seriously? He was beyond livid because I didn't answer the phone?? Whatever happened to common sense? Why didn't he turn around when he realized he'd missed the restaurant? Why didn't he ask for directions when he realized he'd missed our meeting point? He knew I was there. Wasn't he the "stupid" one to drive on stubbornly to my house knowing full well I would not be there? The couple of people I spoke to about this seemed to be in agreement with him; well, why wasn't your phone charged????
Because I don't use it that much. Because I don't have any desire to be tied to a phone. Because now that my parents are gone, there are very few reasons that I have to be reached immediately by anybody. I disabled my texting feature years ago after getting spam porn texts that I had to pay for to figure out who was texting me. Who needs that nonsense?
Though I don't intentionally want to offend anybody, I have to say that people with phones attached to their ears annoy the hell out of me. I don't care to hear your personal conversations while I'm buying my groceries. And don't you dare admonish me to mind my own business when I roll my eyes at you for blocking the aisle while you've stopped to respond to something someone said to you over the phone. If I am at the movies, I'm annoyed by the light of your phone and the one-sided conversation about your boyfriend gambling away his paycheck that you think you're so quietly having. I want to get out of your car when you insist on driving and talking on the phone. It's dangerous, and it is rude! If we're having a conversation that is constantly interrupted by your cell phone, I may pretend that I don't care, but I don't like it. If we are at a meeting and your phone rings, do you really think it's polite to talk on your phone while someone is speaking to the group? Or to tap out a text before asking someone else, what did she just say? I saw a YouTube thing recently where a bride interrupted her wedding to answer the cell phone she had tucked into her cleavage. Maybe it was a fake, but with the way people are about their phones anymore, it was hard to tell.
So, I guess I am totally out of touch with the telephone technology so many of you enjoy. Frankly, I'm fine with it. After this recent incident, I have vowed to myself to keep my phone charged. We'll see how that goes. Just remember, if I don't answer immediately, it's not the end of the world. And if our land line phone call mysteriously gets disconnected while you're simulataneously conversing on your cell phone, it probably wasn't a mistake.
Am I the only one who feels this way? Is there anyone else in America not tied to their cells? If you can relate to this blog, I'm glad to not be alone. But please, don't call my cell to talk about it. Odds are, I won't even be able to find it in the mess I call my purse before you've hung up in utter frustration.
My brother and I were supposed to meet half way between his house and mine so that I could take my niece to my house for a few days. I was at the fast food place on time, 5:00. He wasn't there at 5:30, 6:00, 6:30, or 7:00. Had he been late leaving the house? Bad traffic? Accident? Lost? I was worried, but couldn't do much about it. You see, my phone was dead. I'd not used it the week I was on vacation, and it never occurred to me to charge it until I wanted to find out where the heck my brother was. Finally, I figured I needed to get home and use my land line to make some calls. It was a forty-five minute drive. When I got to my house, all the lights were on. My friend had let him and my niece into the house. He was apoplectic with anger. He was literally foaming at the mouth and screaming at me for not having my phone charged. He told me I was stupid, crazy, had Alzheimer's, etc. I told him to get out of my f-g house. Seriously? He was beyond livid because I didn't answer the phone?? Whatever happened to common sense? Why didn't he turn around when he realized he'd missed the restaurant? Why didn't he ask for directions when he realized he'd missed our meeting point? He knew I was there. Wasn't he the "stupid" one to drive on stubbornly to my house knowing full well I would not be there? The couple of people I spoke to about this seemed to be in agreement with him; well, why wasn't your phone charged????
Because I don't use it that much. Because I don't have any desire to be tied to a phone. Because now that my parents are gone, there are very few reasons that I have to be reached immediately by anybody. I disabled my texting feature years ago after getting spam porn texts that I had to pay for to figure out who was texting me. Who needs that nonsense?
Though I don't intentionally want to offend anybody, I have to say that people with phones attached to their ears annoy the hell out of me. I don't care to hear your personal conversations while I'm buying my groceries. And don't you dare admonish me to mind my own business when I roll my eyes at you for blocking the aisle while you've stopped to respond to something someone said to you over the phone. If I am at the movies, I'm annoyed by the light of your phone and the one-sided conversation about your boyfriend gambling away his paycheck that you think you're so quietly having. I want to get out of your car when you insist on driving and talking on the phone. It's dangerous, and it is rude! If we're having a conversation that is constantly interrupted by your cell phone, I may pretend that I don't care, but I don't like it. If we are at a meeting and your phone rings, do you really think it's polite to talk on your phone while someone is speaking to the group? Or to tap out a text before asking someone else, what did she just say? I saw a YouTube thing recently where a bride interrupted her wedding to answer the cell phone she had tucked into her cleavage. Maybe it was a fake, but with the way people are about their phones anymore, it was hard to tell.
So, I guess I am totally out of touch with the telephone technology so many of you enjoy. Frankly, I'm fine with it. After this recent incident, I have vowed to myself to keep my phone charged. We'll see how that goes. Just remember, if I don't answer immediately, it's not the end of the world. And if our land line phone call mysteriously gets disconnected while you're simulataneously conversing on your cell phone, it probably wasn't a mistake.
Am I the only one who feels this way? Is there anyone else in America not tied to their cells? If you can relate to this blog, I'm glad to not be alone. But please, don't call my cell to talk about it. Odds are, I won't even be able to find it in the mess I call my purse before you've hung up in utter frustration.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Psychics
My sister has scheduled a psychic party (I don't know what else to call it) at her house in September. A psychic, whom some of the women have already met, comes to the house and gives everybody a half hour reading for a set fee. I have wavered about attending. At sixty, how much life do I have left for her to predict? And what if all there is to see in my future is more boring stuff? Do I really want to pay money to confirm more of the same?
I used to have a fascination with psychics. Some experiences confounded me, others just left me laughing. Mostly, I consulted psychics when I was in the midst of a major life change or I thought I was in love. Since I couldn't read the uncommunicative guy's mind, I figured I'd let the psychic do it. In my many visits to psychics, some experiences still stand out.
The summer I finished my fifth year of college was a job hunting nightmare. So, I asked my cousin Joan to help me get my astrological chart done by a woman she swore by. The woman was adamant about my future job prospects. She told me I would get the job I interviewed for on Thursday. I told her I didn't have an interview for Thursday, but I had one for Monday. She told me I'd also be offered that job, but I would take the Thursday job. After my Monday interview, I was contacted by HCPS, and they set up my interview...for Thursday. The rest, as you know, is history. Before you get all goose pimply about this woman's talent, she also told me I would marry a dark foreigner and have one child. That never happened. Granted, there were some very nice dark foreigners in my life, but I had seen the movie and read the book, Not Without My Daughter, so I wasn't investing any time in those men.
I sought advice about the men in my life. One in particular really had my heart. The psychic told me that he deeply cared for me, but for reasons I would later understand, he would never, ever be mine. She was right. Like a number of men I cared for, he too, eventually came out of the closet. Another psychic described a guy I was drawn to and warned me away from him. He was not just a bad boy, he was dangerous. Before it got really bad, I took her advice and safely squirmed out of that relationship.
Over the years, I have maintained a fascination with psychics. I have read how they trick people into providing the information a psychic needs to give a reading. I recently saw an expose on one of the news shows where the psychic gave everybody the same general reading that each attendee found to be personally mind-blowing. I even went to a Sylvia Browne show; she is, by the way, a huge fraud. But, I like and still put some credence in John Edwards. I've read how psychics have been hired by police departments to solve murders, I taught a book about the sight to my middle schoolers (The Third Eye), and Medium was a not-to-miss television show for me. So, there is still a part of me that wants to believe.
I'll go to the psychic party. I hope she doesn't waste my thirty minutes by describing my personality or past adventures. I already know that stuff. I want to know what I've always wanted to know - Dear Miss Psychic: Tell me the truth, is there a man in my future? And is he straight?
I used to have a fascination with psychics. Some experiences confounded me, others just left me laughing. Mostly, I consulted psychics when I was in the midst of a major life change or I thought I was in love. Since I couldn't read the uncommunicative guy's mind, I figured I'd let the psychic do it. In my many visits to psychics, some experiences still stand out.
The summer I finished my fifth year of college was a job hunting nightmare. So, I asked my cousin Joan to help me get my astrological chart done by a woman she swore by. The woman was adamant about my future job prospects. She told me I would get the job I interviewed for on Thursday. I told her I didn't have an interview for Thursday, but I had one for Monday. She told me I'd also be offered that job, but I would take the Thursday job. After my Monday interview, I was contacted by HCPS, and they set up my interview...for Thursday. The rest, as you know, is history. Before you get all goose pimply about this woman's talent, she also told me I would marry a dark foreigner and have one child. That never happened. Granted, there were some very nice dark foreigners in my life, but I had seen the movie and read the book, Not Without My Daughter, so I wasn't investing any time in those men.
I sought advice about the men in my life. One in particular really had my heart. The psychic told me that he deeply cared for me, but for reasons I would later understand, he would never, ever be mine. She was right. Like a number of men I cared for, he too, eventually came out of the closet. Another psychic described a guy I was drawn to and warned me away from him. He was not just a bad boy, he was dangerous. Before it got really bad, I took her advice and safely squirmed out of that relationship.
Over the years, I have maintained a fascination with psychics. I have read how they trick people into providing the information a psychic needs to give a reading. I recently saw an expose on one of the news shows where the psychic gave everybody the same general reading that each attendee found to be personally mind-blowing. I even went to a Sylvia Browne show; she is, by the way, a huge fraud. But, I like and still put some credence in John Edwards. I've read how psychics have been hired by police departments to solve murders, I taught a book about the sight to my middle schoolers (The Third Eye), and Medium was a not-to-miss television show for me. So, there is still a part of me that wants to believe.
I'll go to the psychic party. I hope she doesn't waste my thirty minutes by describing my personality or past adventures. I already know that stuff. I want to know what I've always wanted to know - Dear Miss Psychic: Tell me the truth, is there a man in my future? And is he straight?
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