It’s the Bomb
Desperately looking for something to occupy my time the other afternoon as Bill worked outdoors, I got onto Netflix to see what was available. After much perusing, I ended up with (of all things) The Karate Kid. It is a great movie. It has been a great movie all of the 750 times that I’ve watched it over the years since 1984. As with most Generation X-ers, Court became interested in karate because of that movie, and his dad and I even enrolled him in classes for a short period of time. But what struck me most from the movie was the hair and clothing. Wow. I remember it so well. I absolutely LOVED my stonewashed jeans that fit tightly above my waist, in fact, above my belly button. And my hair, as everyone else’s who was an adult in the 1980s, was big and blown and curled away from my face, ala Farrah Fawcett. Remember leg warmers, thanks to Flashdance? We wore them even though we weren’t even close to a dance floor. And oh, those shoulder pads. Believe it or not, to this very day, the clothes of the 1980s are my favorite style.
I’ve noticed as of late that I have the attention span of a gnat. Actually, what I sternly tell myself is that I’m like a cat that gets distracted by a beam of sunlight coming into the window and showing dust mites in the air. I start doing something, get distracted and begin something else, get distracted again and before you know it, I have three or four things half finished. Here’s an example. I was unloading the dishwasher when I remembered that I wanted to get the grandkids’ Easter cards in the mail. So I began to address the cards. But I needed to look up postage for a heavier card. I moved to my computer and looked up postage. While at my computer, I decided to see how many hits I’d gotten on my blog. Then I started thinking about blog ideas and I started looking something up on Wikipedia, which, NEVER FAILS to suck me in. Before I knew it, I was looking up totally unrelated things. After a half hour or so, I saw the cards sitting on the table. I went to get the postage stamps, and nearly tripped over the dishwasher’s open door since I hadn’t finished that project. And so it goes. I blame age. And all the hairspray I had to use to keep my hair away from my face in the 1980s.
10% is 10%
Speaking of age, cashiers have started giving me the senior discount without asking if I’m eligible. At first I wasn’t sure how I felt about their presumption of my age (though admittedly, they’re accurate). But my cheapskatyness won out over my vanity, and I have decided I will take the 10 percent discount any day of the week.
You have your people with a sweet tooth. You have your people with a salt tooth. Bill is definitely in the former group. He absolutely craves and loves anything sweet. Particularly if chocolate is involved. Beckie’s brownies are his perfect food. My secret craving? Cheetos. In fact, back in Denver, I have taken to buying a bag and giving them to Bill to hide someplace so that I can have them available for lunch but not available for snacking in the afternoon. I’m not proud of this fact. After all, CHEETOS. They make my fingers orange. I love them.
Sock it to Me
As you know, Bill and I live alone. And in both of our houses, we have a laundry room with our own washer and dryer. It’s probably 20 steps from my dryer to my bedroom in our Denver house, and about 5 steps here in Arizona. And yet….AND YET…. I can’t tell you how common it is for me to lose a sock. It’s simply inexplicable. Where could they possibly go?
That’s all folks. Gotta go chase a sunbeam.